Memoirs - Pete Kennedy 1st Visit - Part 3

I heard Margaret and Pete talking about getting their clothes and lunches packed for the following day’s departure. I hated to see them go. I loved Margaret dearly and always wanted to stay near her. She seemed to know so much about so many things. I wanted to dress like her and look just as classy when I grew up.


Now that they were preparing to go back to Cincinnati, I thought it was too bad that Pete had missed the excitement of our getting ready for his visit. It was work but still an exciting time. Since his arrival, our lives had slowed down. We were to watch our manners as well as our tongues. We could walk through the house but not run. We were to talk but not yell. We could talk at the table, but not with our mouths full. We could eat anything on the table, but were forbidden to ask for anything we did not see. The list went on and on. There was nothing left but boredom. Life was too perfect. It was not our way of living.


I was only eight years old, but my youth did not prohibit me from thinking that Pete needed to see us as we really were. I thought a “tell all” shadow show would do the trick. We were not the family who used perfect manners and ate with a napkin at mealtime, nor did we keep our tempers and mouths under control at all time. I kept words hidden under my tongue that came out when I tripped over a garden rake or stepped in a cow pile. This is one way country kids handled difficult situations.


Pete grew up as a city kid. He needed to know how the other half lived, and I was more than willing to show him. My production would give him an inside view as to what went on before he arrived.


I was born sandwiched between two brothers in the birthing order. Tom was two years younger than I and Charlie was about the same distance on the upper side. They agreed to be my assistants. They nailed a bed sheet over the door between the living room and the “Big Bedroom”, as we called it. Tom took care of turning the light on in the bedroom during the show and off when it was over. Charlie operated the light in the living room where the audience sat. Their chairs were facing the bedroom doorway which was covered with the sheet.


When Charlie turned the light off in the living room, Tom quickly flipped the switch on in the bedroom. I stepped up on the stool, so my shadow could be seen by everyone in the audience. I immediately turned sideways to show the huge pillow-stuffed belly that represented my mother’s pregnant stomach. She was expecting her thirteenth child. The audience’s response was so overwhelmingly enthusiastic that I went into my monologue with no hesitation. Not only were they with me, but I had them in the palm of my hand. Since they were roaring with laughter, I continued to remain silent, but made gestures that would feed their sense of humor. I scratched my rump and rubbed my belly.


We all knew that Mom’s face ran with perspiration in the summertime, so I wiped my brow and flung it into the air. The more they laughed, the more brave I became. I forgot how thin that bed sheet actually was. Because I was completely out of Mom’s reach, I felt daring and adventuresome as to where I was going to take my audience. It is amazing how much courage an eight-year-old can have when separated from their parent….even if it is only by a thin sheet.


Mom had been seated next to Pete. It was a place of honor when the show began, but a place of embarrassment as the story unfolded. I told details of our preparation that was never to be spoken. I told about Mom in the kitchen trying to figure out her menus. Would he like this or would he like that? Would he drink our cow’s milk or should Dad bring the bought kind home from town? I gave the older kids orders to make sure Pete’s sheet didn’t have a hole in it and, if possible, find pillow cases that matched. I reminded them to get a clean towel and not to worry about matching the washcloth. That would be impossible!

I shook my finger into the air ordering this child and that one to, “Get busy because, Pete Kennedy is coming!” That refrain repeated itself over and over as the show went on.
Pete began shaking quietly with laughter. Mom later said she could feel his arm shaking next to hers.

Since he seemed to be enjoying the show, she decided she would relax and enjoy it along with him. It was about that time that I took it to a deeper level and told about us wondering what would we do with the pot situation. Mom was about to faint from embarrassment, when Pete began laughing out loud. Mom had enough Irish blood to love a good laugh. There was nothing she liked better.

She was more than ready for the play to come to an end. Somehow a kid senses when they have gone far enough. That feeling grabbed me through the bed sheet like the ghosts that jumped out of Grandma Gabhart's bedtime stories.

In closing, I put both hands on my hips with my feet spread apart and yelled, “Put the lime on the toilet, kids. Pete Kennedy is coming!” Laughter bellowed from the audience as Tom flipped the bedroom light off, leaving me standing in the dark. Charlie turned the living room light on so the audience could see their way out of the make-shift theater.

While Mom was trying to recover and apologize to Pete, I stayed behind the sheet afraid to come out. I could hear her throwing apologetic words at him the same way she had given orders to us before he came. He assured her he loved every minute of it. She believed him and was relieved.


That event told more about her and Pete’s new relationship than it was about me or the shadow show. She got a glimpse of his sense of humor; a trait she admired. She saw that he did not pass judgment on her or the way we lived. Instead, she sensed that he admired her. She had already been convinced that he was not a sissy or a push-over. He was gentle and kind with an inner strength she liked. After that night, she thought he would fit into our family like hand and glove. She could envision him and Margaret having a great life together.


Many years later when I walked into the lobby of the Loogootee Nursing Center, Mom was sitting with several lady friends. When she saw me coming through the double doors, she said, “This is my daughter “Marthie”, and I want to tell you all about the time she put on a shadow show for my son-in-law Pete Kennedy.” With a big smile on her face and with her hands replaying the motions I had done, she began reciting the script that had stayed with her for over fifty years. When she finished, she patted me on the arm as if to say, “Thanks for the memories.”