Hangin' By The Threads

by Ron Day

Sometimes a boy's gotta' do what a boy's gotta do.
But sometimes.....

Well sometimes a boy just don't know what a boy's gotta do....
....until a boy's gotta do it.

Now, you take the day me an' Lenny found my Grandma
high up in the branches of an old willow tree.....

My best friend, Lenny Larson, was nearly always a little on the strange side, doing things that just weren't quite normal. Things that made my parents feel ill at ease whenever he was at our home.

Dad, being a carpenter and all, always said his bubble wasn't quite centered most of the time. Myself, well I always figured he ate too many of those crawdads....raw....when he was a youngster.

Anyway, on this particular occasion, he was pretty much riding on the edge....the edge of Mom's nerves. Finally, tired of his yelling at the top of his lungs, shouting out phrases that just kinda' flittered along the borderline between innocence and outright cussin', she made sudden arrangements for the two of us to visit my grandparents house.

Now if young boys were to be punished for actin' up or being ornery, sending them to my Grandpa's farm certainly wasn't the way to do it. Why, that was like lettin' the dog eat out of the cat's dish because he'd scattered garbage across the front lawn. It was just bound to make matters worse most of the time.

In fact, now that I think back on it, it seems like whenever I got into trouble at Grandpa's house he'd be there too, with a twinkle in his eye and a mischievous little grin on his face. He'd usually be standin' right beside me, too, and saying things to Grandma like, "Now Rose, just you settle down a little bit! We.....uh.....I mean Ronnie.....didn't mean no harm! I know ya' been workin' hard on that laundry all mornin', but it won't take that long for ya' to wash those clothes again will it? Besides, we can get that clothes line strung back up in nothin' flat!"

Grandma's eyebrows would usually raise about then, and she'd fix a good strong glare on Grandpa. Then her shoulders would drop in resignation, or exasperation, and she'd usually shake her head in disgust, telling us both we'd better get out of her house.....and not to let her see us again before supper time!

The Grandpa would sneak a quick wink at me and we' scoot out the door and towards the shed to look for whatever tools we might need to fix whatever it was that we'd.....uhhh, I mean.....I'd broken.

That's what I mean when I say that being sent to Grandpa's place wasn't punishment at all. It wasn't exactly like being sent to jail, or to the gallows. Heck, it wasn't even close to any of them awful things! It wasn't even like being sent to your room, or being made to do the supper dishes all alone while your sisters made ugly faces at you through the kitchen window.

Naw, being sent to Grandpa's place was more like having a friend spring for a soda pop, or finding out that the new girl in your class hadn't told on you after all for hiding her school books in a stall in the boy's bathroom. Grandpa's farm was fun!

On this summer day, as we pulled our bikes into their driveway, Lenny immediately looked a little concerned. I can't say as I blamed him either. After all, he'd never been to my Grandparents house before.

"Don't worry, everything looks about normal to me." I re-assured him as we watched Grandpa, waving his old gray hat and yelling like crazy, chase two of his meanest billy goats out of the yard and back into the pasture. "Things like this happen all the time." It wasn't Grandpa though, but Grandma, who captured most of our attention.

She was sitting astride a large branch, about eight feet up in their weeping willow tree! On the ground beneath her lay an upside down wicker basket, an overturned three-legged milking stool and a dozen or so big red apples, each one of them bitten to the core by goat teeth. In the fence that separated the yard from the pasture a goat-sized opening had been made and tufts of brown and black goat hair hung from the wire.

Me an' Lenny could guess what had happened, it didn't take much thinkin' either. Apparently the goats that Grandpa was now herding had spotted those shiny red apples as Grandma sat serenely in the yard, peeling them for a pie. Somehow they'd squeezed un-noticed through the fence and sorta snuck up on Grandma from her blind side, probably giving her quite a start.

But what had happened after that....well, we never did get that quite clear. We'd arrived on the scene just a couple minutes too late and missed all the good stuff!

In all of the excitement neither of them had noticed Lenny and me ride up, and by now Grandpa had the goats pretty well under control and headed back towards the creek where they usually stayed. Grandma was already starting to climb back down out of the tree.

But as she swung her leg over the branch she didn't notice that the hem of her dress, Grandma always wore a dress, had gotten a little hung up on the stub of a boken limb. And as she began lowering herself down the tree trunk the bottom of her dress, of course, stayed high in the tree. By the time she did notice the problem she didn't have the strength to pull herself back up onto the branch.

So there she was, hanging in a willow tree, arms wrapped tightly around a branch, and trying desperately to hoist herself back up again. She just couldn't do it though, and I've often wondered since then how she got up there in the first place.

At any rate, she was in a precarious position, to say the least. She tried again to lower herself to the ground but the snagged dress once more lifted above her thigh, beyond her thighs in fact, and she pulled herself painfully back up as far as she could. The she screamed for Grandpa.

"Jeeeeeum!" she cried. " Come back heeere an' help meee!" But by this time Grandpa was pretty well back to the creek with the goats. He couldn't have heard her frantic shouts even if he'd been listening for them, and I'm fairly certain he wasn't. At that point I had an awful feeling that our day at Grandpa's wasn't going to be as much fun as I'd thought.

Lenny was awe struck by the scene and stood motionless, eyes opened wide.....and his mouth, too. That's about the only time that I know of when he was speechless. He just stood there gawking at Grandma as she tried once again to lower herself from the tree, only to be thwarted by the snagged dress.

But not me. No sir, I wasn't awestruck. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep from laughing out loud. There was something about seeing Grandma hanging from a tree that just seemed funny. Short bursts of stifled laughter escaped from lips hidden behind my hands and I couldn't catch my breath. Just as I was about to fall to the ground, Grandma spied us.

She'd evidently decided by then that Grandpa wasn't going to come back and help her and had lowered herself much further than before. I suppose she was getting tired, and figured that it didn't matter any more if she ripped her dress. At any rate, just as her face disappeared down into the folds of the red and white fabric, exposing more of Grandma than Lenny and I had ever seen, or even cared to see, she turned her head and saw us standing by the gate.

"Ronnie!" she called out, "Come over here and catch me!"

Well, I looked at Lenny, and Lenny he looked back at me, as we tried to decide what we should do. Meanwhile Grandma was just sorta' hanging there in the tree, silently swaying back and forth in the breeze a little, while she waited for us to rescue her.

This wasn't something Lenny and I were accustomed to. Rescuing damsel's in distress was the one thing we'd always dreamed about doing, of course, and we coulda' handled that job fairly easily I believe.

But coming to the aid of a grandmother who was hanging desperately to a tree limb, with her dress pulled up over her face and her ample legs and undies exposed to the world?.....Why, just the very thought of it gave new meaning to the phrase "Heroic Deeds".

Finally though, we sauntered over to Grandma's tree and studied the situation for a few seconds. Even with her arms fully extended, as they now were, Grandma's feet were still a good distance above the ground. It was obvious we'd never be able to hold her up and get the dress un-snagged at the same time. We were strong, but not that strong.

"I think we're gonna' need a chair to stand on," I said to Lenny. "You stay here and hold 'er up while I run into the house an' get one!"

Lenny got a funny expression on his face then, and looked again at Grandma's legs, which by now were starting to kick a little bit. Then he looked a little higher for a moment or two before finally looking up at the inside-out dress hiding her face.

"Un Ahhh!" he said firmly. "She's your Grandma....you hold 'er! I'll go get the chair!"

I knew there was no use in arguing. Lenny seemed pretty resolved in his decision. So, giving him by best dirty look, I stepped forward and prepared to wrap my arms around Grandma's legs.

But right away I had a big problem. I mean, how does one go about grabbing his grandmother by the legs? Which side should I hold from? Front? Back? And where should I put my head?

I finally decided that a side hold would be best, and after mustering up a little more courage I grabbed her legs and heaved mightily. "Now git in the house and bring out a chair!" I snarled at Lenny. "An' hurry up!"

As Lenny ran to the house I turned back to Grandma, speaking directly into her leg, "How are ya' feelin' Grandma?" I asked her. "Oh, I'm gettin' a little tired," she admitted quietly, "but I expect I can hang on until you friend gets here with a chair." I was impressed. I thought she was remaining admirably calm, considering her situation, and for a moment I began to think our day at my grandparent's house was salvageable after all.

But about then Grandma took a deep, shuddering breath and both of her legs began to twitch involuntarily. "But when I do get outta' this tree," she continued with a vengeance, "I swear I'm gonna' kill your Grandpa for leavin' me like this!"

Her threat frightened me a little. It sounded fairly sincere and caused me some alarm. "I'm sure he'll hurry right back, Grandma!" I said re-assuringly. "He's prob'ly just makin' sure those goats are clear across the creek before he comes back. I bet he's runnin' this way full speed right now!"

Grandma exhaled a loud snuffle through her nose. "You don't know your Grandpa!" she said sarcastically. "He hasn't even thought of me since he left the yard!"

"Well now, I just couldn't believe that about my own Grandpa, and I craned my neck a bit so's I could see out into the pasture.

Yeah...he was on his way back to the house alright, but to my dismay he didn't seem to be hurrying too much, like I'd told Grandma he'd be. He was just sorta' moseying along an' throwing sticks & rocks for his old dog, Dobie to chase. He did, in fact, seem real unconcerned about Grandma, just like she'd said, and if he even remembered that she'd been sittin' on a tree branch just recently seemed doubtful, cause he sure didn't look too bothered.

As I watched he took a can of Copenhagen from his shirt pocket, stuffed a big ol' pinch of it into his mouth, then threw another stick for Dobie.

"Oooh Nooo!" I whispered under my breath, and for an instant I considered bolting towards my bike for a quick get-away. The day had already been stressful enough, what with seeing my Grandma nearly naked and all, and now I was going to be a witness to Grandpa's murder.....or at least a really good argument!

"Lennnneeeee!!" I shouted out, "Hurry uuuupp will ya!!"

Well, good ol' Lenny, he just kinda' took his time, finally coming out of the house at the same moment Grandpa walked through the gate and into the yard. Time seemed to stand still as Grandpa looked at each and everyone of us, a somewhat surprised expression on his face.

Lenny was still standing by the door, frozen in mid-stride, as if he'd been caught red handed stealing the chair he was now holding over his head like some sort of wierd umbrella.

I was, of course, caught holding Grandma up by her bare legs. And Grandma.....well she was still hangin' there from the tree as usual, unable to see anything except her dress.

I think she must have sensed something though,'cause her legs quit kicking and she started hissin' under her breath, real quiet like. Then she scared the bejeebers out of me!

"Jeeeeuumm!! Is that you?" she roared.

Never before had I heard a woman use such a voice! It was loud! It was deafening! It was like a sudden clap of thunder on a warm summer day! It echoed off the walls of the barn and caused a small avalanche of leaves to fall out of the tree. Big chips of paint fell from the side of their house.....and poor old Dobie gave out a frightened whimper then hightailed it back to the creek with his tail tucked between his legs.

And then, immediately afterwards, there was this awful, eerie silence. The chickens in the chicken house quit squakin'. The birds in the trees quit chirpin', and Old Man Schraders dog quit barkin' for the first time in months. No one spoke. No one breathed. No one moved a muscle. We were all waiting for the end of life as we'd known it.

"Jeeem!" Grandma's second beller broke the eerie silence that she herself had created. Her voice was shorter this time, though, as if she was running out of patience.

"I know you're there!" she shouted out, "I can smell that stinkin' chew you got in your mouth! Now you get yourself over here right now and help these here boys git me outta' this tree!"

I figured Grandpa would be as scared as me and run right over to help her out, and maybe try to calm her down a mite, but he didn't. He just stood there by the gate for a few seconds, not saying nothin' and lookin' like he was transfixed or something. Then he slowly began to rub his fingers across his mouth, appraising the situation, I guess you could say.

He looked again at Lenny, still standing like a statue with a chair held high over his head, and he looked at me, holding tightly onto Grandma's legs with my face pressed against her thighs.

Then he looked at Grandma herself, hanging there from a willow tree with her dress up over her face, and her feet, starting to kick once more, dangling far above the ground.

Ever so slowly then his belly began to tremble mysteriously beneath his t-shirt. A loud snort erupted from the back of his throat and his shoulders began to quiver. A tear escaped from his right eye, rolling down his cheek and landing among his gray whiskers.

At first I was puzzled. Then, suddenly, I was horrified! He was laughing! He thought this whole stupid situation was funny! How could he laugh when Grandma was in the mood she was in? Didn't he realize that laughing would only make matters worse? How in the world could he laugh when we all knew that Grandma was going to kill him?

Panic set in and I desperately shook my head at Grandpa, trying to make him stop laughing. But my gestures were useless! He'd already started, gone past the point of no return! He was surely gonna' die by his wife's own hands and there was nothing I, or anyone else, could do about it! And when he could no longer contain himself, when he'd run out of breath and started to gag, he really let go, roaring out a series of long drawn-out belly laughs that caused him to squat on the ground holding his sides. Tears rolled from both eyes now, and he tried to wipe them away with his hands. Occasionally he'd nearly get a hold of himself, then he'd look at Grandma hanging there like that and start all over again. It seemed he laughed for hours, but in reality I suppose it was only a couple of minutes or so.
<
I glanced over at Lenny, about to signal him to make a run for it while we still could. Much to my dismay though, I saw him lower the chair to the ground, a smile appearing on his lips, too.

"Oh Lenneee! Nooo! Don't doooo it!" I shouted. But it was to late for Lenny, too, and before I could stop him he was laughing loudly, uncontrollably!

"Lenneee!" I shouted out again, "Pleeeze stop laughing or Grandma'll kill you too!"

But Lenny didn't seem to hear me. He'd sat down on the chair and it'd fallen over, dumping him onto the ground. He just laid there with his face buried in the grass, laughing and saying something unintelligble about the funniest thing he'd ever saw.

"Oooh Grandma!" I cried out, tipping my face upwards like I was sayin' a prayer, "Don't pay no attention to them! They're jus' bein' stoopid! They don't know what they're doin'! Oh pleeeze Grandma don't be mad! Don't try'n kill 'em!" I pleaded.

Much to my astonishment however, Grandma's body began trembling too. At first I thought it was caused by her unbridled anger. But then the unmistakable sound of a giggle escaped from behind her uplifted dress. Then it got louder and louder until it was hard to distinguish her laughter from that of Lenny and Grandpa.

"Jim!" she finally gasped out breathlessly, and much more friendly like than before, "Get over here and help! I'm laughin' so hard I'm beginnin' to lose my grip, and if I fall on Ronnie I'll crush him sure as anything!"

Grandpa and Lenny both rushed over then, and between the three of us we got Grandma's dress un-hooked and lowered her safely to the ground.

Then we all laid out in the their yard for nearly an hour, laughing together and talking about apples and goats and Grandmas' underwear. We laughed so hard that it was impossible to stand up, and our sides hurt well into the next day.

Later that afternoon, as Lenny and I rode our bikes back home, we got to talkin' once again about our day at Grandpa's and Grandma's, and how miraculous it was that such an unfortunate incident had ended up with such hilarious results.

"Ya know", Lenny said, as we pulled into my driveway, "I'd kinda' like to go to your grandparent's place again tommorrow. Do ya' think your Mom'll let us?"

"Well, I don't know," I said thoughtfully, "I guess it'll prob'ly depend on how good we are, an all."

Lenny thought that over for a minute or two. "What about if I called your little brother a "Flippin' Pimquat?" he asked.

"HAAYLOOOW GRAMPA!" I laughed. And we ran into the house, ready for another adventure.

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