Duchess and Hubert are madly in love.
Our sweet-faced dachshund and Hubert, Monsignor Leyden's red-eyed Bassett Hound, have carried on a torrid love affair for the better part of a decade right in front of us. And I do mean right in front of us. Hubert lumbers the half block from Blessed Sacrament Church, ears flapping in the breeze, eager with anticipation. Then he and Duchess surrender to their passion in the middle of our front yard on Eudora Street.
We kids adore the numerous litters of low-slung puppies with ears like sails that result from the union, but Mom tries to discourage the lovemaking. She's tired of finding homes for Hubert's offspring and firmly decides he must cast his seed elsewhere.
We kids adore the numerous litters of low-slung puppies with ears like sails that result from the union, but Mom tries to discourage the lovemaking. She's tired of finding homes for Hubert's offspring and firmly decides he must cast his seed elsewhere.
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| Debbie - age 5. |
"Get the hose!" she sreams as she spies Duchess and Hubert through the window. Even a cold shower, however, does little to dissuade Hubert. He finishes his business in his own good time, turns without a backward glance, and trots back to the shady grotto of the Blessed Virgin Mary presumably to collapse and have a cigarette.
One day in my sister Debbie's first grade class, Sister Caroline asks the kids to draw a picture of "your family pet having fun." Debbie concentrates hard on her crayon drawing and innocently offers it to Sister Caroline.
It's a detailed depiction of Hubert mounting Duchess. In the background, Deb has thoughtfully added our mother who, with a very round mouth, aims a hose with a long stream of water at Hubert.
It's a detailed depiction of Hubert mounting Duchess. In the background, Deb has thoughtfully added our mother who, with a very round mouth, aims a hose with a long stream of water at Hubert.
Monsignor Leyden, when he receives word of the infamous drawing, laughs so hard he has a coughing spasm. Sister Caroline, however, is far from amused. She mails the picture home and includes a note.
"Mr. and Mrs. Brown," she writes in careful script, "Please help Mary Debra to understand that not everything should be shared at school."
Dad laughs it off, but Mom is embarrassed. She speaks in vague terms about the real nature of Duchess and Hubert's friendship to Debbie who is so bewildered that Mom finally drops the subject.
"Don't put Hubert in any more pictures," Mom instructs her and leaves it at that.
The rest of Debbie's first grade year passes uneventfully. But when it's my sister Mary's turn to enter Sister Caroline's first grade class, trouble ensues again. It's all because of the Bloody Finger.
Dad loves practical jokes. One day when we are absorbed in a television program, he suddenly prances into the room. Our six foot seven inch father with shoulders like a table top pirouettes in front of us wearing a pink tutu, tights and a blonde wig. We are as thunderstruck as Dad hopes us to be, and he roars his big laugh. Nobody enjoys Dad's practical jokes more than Dad does.
His favorite joke, however, is the Bloody Finger. Returning home from work one evening, he calls to us, his voice gravely serious. On his way home from the office, he tells us, he notices something in the parking lot. It's a detached human finger.
"I brought it home to show you, but whatever you do," he warns, "don't touch it."
We stare at each other. Is he kidding? Why the heck would we touch it? Why would HE?
We lean close as Dad unveils a small box lined with cotton. And there it is. A single finger lies in a small pool of blood. Fascinated and repelled at the same time. we cautiously lean in closer. Suddenly the finger pops up. We shriek and scatter to all corners of the room.
Mom comes running. "What in the world?" she gasps. Dad laughs and laughs thoroughly enjoying his joke. He shows us the hole he's cut in the bottom of the box and reveals the catsup covered finger to be his own.
"That's a great trick, isn't it?" he grins.
Mom's scowl registers deep disapproval, but the rest of us begin to laugh nervously. My brothers decide to play the prank on their friends. Eventually every kid on Eudora Street has been traumatized by the Bloody Finger.
My little sister Mary is horrified by the Bloody Finger. Sweet and shy - so shy that she rarely says a word to anybody but us - she is happiest nestled against Mom and the babies on the tv room couch. In fact, when Terry, Carry, Tommy and Jeff are born, Mary mothers each of them tenderly. But school is difficult. In first grade, her new world of teachers and classmates paralyzes Mary with shyness.
Mom is confident maturity will take care of Mary's perpetual shyness. Dad, however, wants to accelerate the process. He believes Mary needs only a little nudge to come out of her shell.The night before April Fool's Day, he draws her aside.
"You know what the kids at school would love?" he says. "The Bloody Finger!"
Mary is doubtful, but Dad's enthusiasm is contagious. "You'll be a sensation!" Dad says. "Nobody will ever forget the day Mary Brown brought the Bloody Finger to first grade."
The next morning, careful to avoid Mom, Dad produces the cut-out bottom of a small milk carton, catsup and cotton. A few minutes later, Mary walks tremulously the half block to school, her catsup covered finger stuck through the bottom of a milk carton, and prepares to wow Sister Caroline and all her first grade classmates.
The Bloody Finger goes over just about as well as the famous drawing of Duchess and Hubert. Sister Caroline sends yet another note home. This time she wonders if she and my mother and father might sit down to discuss some "helpful parenting methods".
Dad laughs it off, but Mom is embarrassed. She speaks in vague terms about the real nature of Duchess and Hubert's friendship to Debbie who is so bewildered that Mom finally drops the subject.
"Don't put Hubert in any more pictures," Mom instructs her and leaves it at that.
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| Duchess with Tommy |
Dad loves practical jokes. One day when we are absorbed in a television program, he suddenly prances into the room. Our six foot seven inch father with shoulders like a table top pirouettes in front of us wearing a pink tutu, tights and a blonde wig. We are as thunderstruck as Dad hopes us to be, and he roars his big laugh. Nobody enjoys Dad's practical jokes more than Dad does.
His favorite joke, however, is the Bloody Finger. Returning home from work one evening, he calls to us, his voice gravely serious. On his way home from the office, he tells us, he notices something in the parking lot. It's a detached human finger.
"I brought it home to show you, but whatever you do," he warns, "don't touch it."
We stare at each other. Is he kidding? Why the heck would we touch it? Why would HE?
We lean close as Dad unveils a small box lined with cotton. And there it is. A single finger lies in a small pool of blood. Fascinated and repelled at the same time. we cautiously lean in closer. Suddenly the finger pops up. We shriek and scatter to all corners of the room.
Mom comes running. "What in the world?" she gasps. Dad laughs and laughs thoroughly enjoying his joke. He shows us the hole he's cut in the bottom of the box and reveals the catsup covered finger to be his own.
"That's a great trick, isn't it?" he grins.
Mom's scowl registers deep disapproval, but the rest of us begin to laugh nervously. My brothers decide to play the prank on their friends. Eventually every kid on Eudora Street has been traumatized by the Bloody Finger.
My little sister Mary is horrified by the Bloody Finger. Sweet and shy - so shy that she rarely says a word to anybody but us - she is happiest nestled against Mom and the babies on the tv room couch. In fact, when Terry, Carry, Tommy and Jeff are born, Mary mothers each of them tenderly. But school is difficult. In first grade, her new world of teachers and classmates paralyzes Mary with shyness.
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| Mary and Tommy |
"You know what the kids at school would love?" he says. "The Bloody Finger!"
Mary is doubtful, but Dad's enthusiasm is contagious. "You'll be a sensation!" Dad says. "Nobody will ever forget the day Mary Brown brought the Bloody Finger to first grade."
The next morning, careful to avoid Mom, Dad produces the cut-out bottom of a small milk carton, catsup and cotton. A few minutes later, Mary walks tremulously the half block to school, her catsup covered finger stuck through the bottom of a milk carton, and prepares to wow Sister Caroline and all her first grade classmates.
The Bloody Finger goes over just about as well as the famous drawing of Duchess and Hubert. Sister Caroline sends yet another note home. This time she wonders if she and my mother and father might sit down to discuss some "helpful parenting methods".
Our beautiful mother is almost never angry. But she's fairly livid now.
"You and your Bloody Finger!" she turns on Dad. "Sister Caroline thinks we're raising hillbillies!" Mom's gentle pride is wounded to the core.
Dad, for once, seems repentant. He doesn't apologize - Dad never apologizes. He does, though, have the grace to look ashamed. "I'll talk to Sister Caroline, Patti," he promises.
We are never privy to the details of that fated meeting between Sister Caroline and Dad. Does she let him have it? It seems unthinkable that a small determined nun should scold our giant of a father.
Mary finishes first grade, and all seems to be forgiven. Dad never encourages any of us ever again to play practical jokes at school. But he's right about one thing.
No one at Blessed Sacrament Elementary ever forgets the day shy little Mary Brown brings the Bloody Finger to Sister Caroline's first grade class.
"You and your Bloody Finger!" she turns on Dad. "Sister Caroline thinks we're raising hillbillies!" Mom's gentle pride is wounded to the core.
Dad, for once, seems repentant. He doesn't apologize - Dad never apologizes. He does, though, have the grace to look ashamed. "I'll talk to Sister Caroline, Patti," he promises.
We are never privy to the details of that fated meeting between Sister Caroline and Dad. Does she let him have it? It seems unthinkable that a small determined nun should scold our giant of a father.
Mary finishes first grade, and all seems to be forgiven. Dad never encourages any of us ever again to play practical jokes at school. But he's right about one thing.
No one at Blessed Sacrament Elementary ever forgets the day shy little Mary Brown brings the Bloody Finger to Sister Caroline's first grade class.
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