Mrs. Price came to our house to care for Carol.
*******
When I got home from school on November 22, 1963, Mrs. Price updated me on all she had learned so far about the assassination of John F. Kennedy.
In July, 1963, Carol spent almost the entirety of her first month of life hospitalized. We nearly lost her. Mom needed a babysitter she could trust deeply. Mrs. Price fit the bill perfectly.
Mrs. Price made it possible for Mom to return to teaching so soon after Carol was born. Mrs. Price cleaned house, started dinner, ironed, showered Carol with deep affection, and took a break each afternoon to watch Dialing for Dollars on KXLY-TV.
Mrs. Price was the first Seventh Day Adventist I had ever really known. I'd never known anyone who went to church on Saturday. I'd never known anyone who bought Van Kamp's Vegetarian beans. Even at nine/ten years old, I could tell Mrs. Price was a paragon of virtue.
I also knew that the kindly, humble Mrs. Price was very serious about being a good person. Mom knew this, too.
Mom enjoys sweet things. She has never been much of a drinker of alcohol, but when she does drink, it's always a Grasshopper or a Hot-buttered Rum or a Stinger, something sweet, often a drink with a liqueur.
Back in 1963, if Mom were going to have a little smash, it would often be a small glass of Mogen David grape wine. Its sweetness fit Mom's taste in alcohol and it was much simpler than having to have booze or liqueurs around to make a mixed drink.
Mom didn't drink much. Therefore, a fifth or a quart of Mogen David could last quite a while.
But Mom noticed on a visit to the refrigerator one evening that the Mogen David bottle seemed to have come down a bit.
"Pert," she said to Dad, "I didn't think you liked Mogen David."
"Jesus, Mary," he replied, "that shit would knock a cat off a gut wagon."
"So you haven't been taking a nip?"
He made a throw up noise. "No, Mary. Not only HAVE I not been drinking it, I CANNOT drink it."
Second throw up noise.
"Well, I haven't had any for a while, but someone has. "
Dad got up from watching "Yogi Bear" and looked at the Mogen David bottle.
"You don't think...."Dad said.
"I guess I'll have to ask her," Mom replied.
Mrs. Price was adamant. She swore to my mother that she did not drink alcohol and besides she would never help herself to anything in Mom and Dad's house without permission. Mrs. Price was wounded by the suggestion that she would have been nipping on a wine jug with Carol under her care.
The level of the wine jug continued to diminish and the mystery persisted.
One day I heard Mom and Dad talking about it again in the kitchen. I must have turned pale or blushed. Mom asked me if I had been drinking from her Mogen David jug.
I was in the fourth grade. I looked down. "Yes. Sometimes I have a sip."
"When?"
"Before I go to school."
"Sit down."
It turned out that I didn't really understand that it might be a problem for a nine/ten year old to take a nip from a wine bottle before school. I wasn't seeking a high. I just liked the grape taste of the Mogen David wine. It was kind of like grape juice, I said.
Mrs. Price was off the hook. Mom apologized. Mrs. Price laughed, relieved. I don't know of any other time Mrs. Price's moral character came under question.
So while I enjoyed the lunches Mrs. Price made for me when I came home from school for lunch during the World Series and always think of her when I hear the name of Officer Tippit the policeman Lee Harvey Oswald killed the day of the JFK assassination and regret the childish glee I took, when in the fifth or sixth grade, I used to use naughty double entendres in conversation with Mrs. Price and thought it was so funny that she didn't get them, but I'm never sure I've ever quite forgiven myself for nearly getting Mrs. Price fired because I enjoyed a nip of Mogen David wine before going to school in the fourth grade.
In July, 1963, Carol spent almost the entirety of her first month of life hospitalized. We nearly lost her. Mom needed a babysitter she could trust deeply. Mrs. Price fit the bill perfectly.
Mrs. Price made it possible for Mom to return to teaching so soon after Carol was born. Mrs. Price cleaned house, started dinner, ironed, showered Carol with deep affection, and took a break each afternoon to watch Dialing for Dollars on KXLY-TV.
Mrs. Price was the first Seventh Day Adventist I had ever really known. I'd never known anyone who went to church on Saturday. I'd never known anyone who bought Van Kamp's Vegetarian beans. Even at nine/ten years old, I could tell Mrs. Price was a paragon of virtue.
I also knew that the kindly, humble Mrs. Price was very serious about being a good person. Mom knew this, too.
Mom enjoys sweet things. She has never been much of a drinker of alcohol, but when she does drink, it's always a Grasshopper or a Hot-buttered Rum or a Stinger, something sweet, often a drink with a liqueur.
Back in 1963, if Mom were going to have a little smash, it would often be a small glass of Mogen David grape wine. Its sweetness fit Mom's taste in alcohol and it was much simpler than having to have booze or liqueurs around to make a mixed drink.
Mom didn't drink much. Therefore, a fifth or a quart of Mogen David could last quite a while.
But Mom noticed on a visit to the refrigerator one evening that the Mogen David bottle seemed to have come down a bit.
"Pert," she said to Dad, "I didn't think you liked Mogen David."
"Jesus, Mary," he replied, "that shit would knock a cat off a gut wagon."
"So you haven't been taking a nip?"
He made a throw up noise. "No, Mary. Not only HAVE I not been drinking it, I CANNOT drink it."
Second throw up noise.
"Well, I haven't had any for a while, but someone has. "
Dad got up from watching "Yogi Bear" and looked at the Mogen David bottle.
"You don't think...."Dad said.
"I guess I'll have to ask her," Mom replied.
Mrs. Price was adamant. She swore to my mother that she did not drink alcohol and besides she would never help herself to anything in Mom and Dad's house without permission. Mrs. Price was wounded by the suggestion that she would have been nipping on a wine jug with Carol under her care.
The level of the wine jug continued to diminish and the mystery persisted.
One day I heard Mom and Dad talking about it again in the kitchen. I must have turned pale or blushed. Mom asked me if I had been drinking from her Mogen David jug.
I was in the fourth grade. I looked down. "Yes. Sometimes I have a sip."
"When?"
"Before I go to school."
"Sit down."
It turned out that I didn't really understand that it might be a problem for a nine/ten year old to take a nip from a wine bottle before school. I wasn't seeking a high. I just liked the grape taste of the Mogen David wine. It was kind of like grape juice, I said.
Mrs. Price was off the hook. Mom apologized. Mrs. Price laughed, relieved. I don't know of any other time Mrs. Price's moral character came under question.
So while I enjoyed the lunches Mrs. Price made for me when I came home from school for lunch during the World Series and always think of her when I hear the name of Officer Tippit the policeman Lee Harvey Oswald killed the day of the JFK assassination and regret the childish glee I took, when in the fifth or sixth grade, I used to use naughty double entendres in conversation with Mrs. Price and thought it was so funny that she didn't get them, but I'm never sure I've ever quite forgiven myself for nearly getting Mrs. Price fired because I enjoyed a nip of Mogen David wine before going to school in the fourth grade.
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