History never happens in a vacuum. What we are going through right now is very much like the 1950’s….now that I think of it.
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Strangers on our little red scoria roads in eastern Montana were met with the same suspicion as the unrecognized small plane flying north to south. More on that in a moment.
If I were an artist, I could paint my mother’s back as she stood at the locked kitchen door talking to a salesman through the screen as he chooses his words carefully, hoping to gain entrance.
Standing behind her, I could see
her left hand pressing firmly down on the screen door hook and her right hand behind her back, holding the kitchen knife. When Mom grabbed a butcher knife on her way to the door, we knew she was scared of something, although it was never talked about. If it happened that the lower back door to the house was not locked when a salesman arrived, we would scamper through the rooms on the back side of the house, scoot down the four steps to that door and hook the screen door there as well while she was talking through the screen door. (more…)