Even Then I Knew

Abstract

Even Then I Knew David Huddle (bio) for Lisa Fay Coutley Our mother was often desperate because of my brothers and me–once she threw the dish drainer at Charles, slapped the back of Bill’s head so that his face plopped down into his spaghetti and what did she get for that? More boy guffaws in our victory over her self-control. Our mother wore little mascara, served her sentence of three sons in a house at the end of a dirt road in a time of no post-it notes, two channels on TV, no shrinks, no antidepressants, and her only role model was Mrs. Perkins who one afternoon rode Toby’s bicycle down Church Hill, skirts fluttering over her thighs, to buy a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Decorum meant everything to our mother, and if someone had told my brothers and me that mothers can drive away, that would have frozen us in place like a game of statues before Charles would have said Oh yeah, and where would she go? and Bill would have said Maybedown to the Post Office? And me? I’d have been [End Page 52] scared, because I loved her way more than my Roy Rogers silver cap pistols with their white fringed holsters, but finally I’d have found something real funny to say. [End Page 53] David Huddle David Huddle is retired from a distinguished career as a Professor at the University of Vermont, and from post-retirement assignments at Hollins and Austin Peay Universities. He has published poems, short stories, novellas, novels, and essays and is working on what he hopes will be his twentieth book. Copyright © 2013 Berea College