"Don't forget to honk for me, Daddy," I would say as I hugged him good-bye.   I would watch as he drove the car down the road toward the highway.  Before he pulled out on the highway he honked the horn and blinked his lights.  On down the road he repeated that process at the stop sign at the junction, and then just a bit further down the highway, he would honk one last time as he went over the railroad overpass.  I would stand there for a long time after he left on those Sunday nights, as tears ran down my face.

I was eight years old that summer when Daddy began working the night shift in Quincy, Illinois, because there was no work for him any closer to home.  He would stay at the YMCA all week and come home on Friday for the weekend, and then the cycle would begin once more on the next Sunday night.

That was the same year Mama had to have surgery.  Being a young child, I didn't understand much of what was happening but I felt the burden of concern all around me.  There were somber faces, serious conversations, and trips to Bloomfield, Iowa, to see the doctor.  One day, Mama explained to me that she had a lump in her breast and something called a goiter in her throat.  All I really understood was that they were something that wasn't supposed to be there and the doctor had to remove them.  Cancer was not a word in my vocabulary at that point in my young life, but fear was.

The day of the surgery, my brother and I were allowed to go with Daddy to see Mama in the hospital before they took her to the operating room.  I'm not sure why that was permitted because at that time children under 12 could not go into the hospital rooms, and there was a sign posted in the waiting room that said as much so perhaps that was because Mama's condition was thought to be very serious.  As a child, I didn't understand the words that I heard but the importance of them must have registered because years later as an adult, I remembered exactly what was said when I heard Mama whisper the words to Daddy, "If anything happens to me, take care of the kids."  Although Daddy pretended to not be concerned that anything could possibly happen, he made the promise.

Mama came through the surgery and I was left with my Aunt Julia because they kept Mama in the hospital for a long time and Daddy had to work.  I loved Aunt Julia and Uncle Pearl's great big house on a farm near Novelty, Mo.   There was a swing in a big tree that would glide clear across the front yard.  It was fun to help Aunt Julia in the garden and I was given my cousin Evelyn's room to use because she was not at home.  Evelyn was an airline stewardess, which to me sounded like an exciting job because she could fly to far away places.  I would play in her room and pretend to be just like her.

I had never been away from home before without my parents and Daddy must have been concerned about that because late one afternoon as I was looking out the upstairs window, I saw that wonderful old black and white '57 Plymouth coming down the driveway.  It was Daddy's car and I was so glad to see him that I leaped up and practically flew down the stairs and into his arms before he even got to the house!  He couldn't stay long and when he turned to leave, I was struck with the most terrible pain.
I didn't know the diagnosis was simply homesickness.  I asked to go with him and I cried because he said I couldn't go.  I heard him explain to Aunt Julia that he would like to take me but he was on his way back to work that night, so he couldn't. I think he felt awful and knew then it was probably a mistake to have stopped by at all.

It was a hard time being away from home for a little girl but it wasn't long until our little family of four was back home and together again.  I learned that whatever was wrong with Momma was a good word called "benign" and it meant that everything was going to be normal again.  Looking back, I know that it was a great relief that no cancer was found.  I also know that Daddy took that job so far away so that he could make enough money to be able to pay the hospital bills.

I don't remember exactly how long Daddy continued to travel to and from his job in Quincy, but when he would leave, the ritual began once more and he would honk and blink his lights at the designated places.  Later, Daddy found work closer to home and at least for a while the hard times were over.

By
Pamela R. Blaine
© January, 2003

*The song below was written by Stephen Foster in 1855.  The song is said to be based upon a melody that he heard while attending the church of his nurse.  It has been recorded that it was one of the songs that was sung the most often by Foster himself in his own last, hard times.

*"Hard Times Come Again No More."

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears,
Oh! hard times come again no more.
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard times, hard times, come again no more;
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh! hard times, come again no more....

'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore....
'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave,
Oh! hard times come again no more.
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard times, hard times, come again no more;
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh! hard times, come again no more....

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door.
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say,
"Oh! hard times come again no more."
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard times, hard times, come again no more,
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh, hard times come again no more.
Oh, hard times come again no more.