My mom and dad met during the war. She happened to be Canadian, while Dad was a southern man. They met under the strangest circumstances. You see, Dad and his best friend, Gib Ray, happened to be walking down the streets of Montreal (on leave) when they ran into these two women. They all had one thing in common that night - they were all interested in having a good time.
Well, Gib Ray told Dad which one he wanted. So, Dad (being rather shy around the opposite sex) said," O.K." They walked with the two young ladies (hand and hand), with the men on the outside - which was the gentlemanly thing to do in those days. As they walked, however, Gib Ray told Dad to change partners - as he liked the way Dad’s girl walked, talked, and pretty much did everything else. Her name was Violet, and the other girl’s name was Amy. They were the best of friends - just like Dad and Gib Ray.
When they reached the dance hall and went inside, Amy (the girl who was now with Dad) took off her scarf
to show this beautiful long-flowing dark hair. She also had a beauty-queen face to match. Well, when she did that, Gib Ray wanted to change back - right then! Dad said adamantly, " No way, Gib! You and I are best friends - Right? You want’a keep it that way? You made your choice, and now you have to stick with it! O.K.?" Gib Ray sadly responded, " O.K. Morris, you win!"
A few weeks later, the two lovebirds (Morris and Amy) tied the knot. That’s when the trouble began. You see, my mother had never been outside of Greenfield Park (a suburb of Montreal), and she had no idea what was in store for her in Florida -where they eventually would make their home. She didn’t know what to expect from the people, and they sure didn’t know just what to expect from her. I think it might be referred to as "double-culture shock" - with both sides going, "Huh?"
Well, just after settling in this place called Plant City (in a house Dad had built - about 2 blocks from an area called "Slab Town"), they began their new life, together. Dad built houses for a living, and Mom had a job with a similar title - that’s right, she was a "house" wife (which I guess they refer to now as a stay-at-home mom).
Anyway, about 2 years passed by when one day this cat came walking into the yard. Now, this cat was kind’a on the scrawny side. When Mom saw him, she put down a bowl of milk and the cat quickly lapped it up. Though he was obviously hungry, he had a much bigger problem than that - you see, he was infested with fleas. So, when Mom noticed this, she started looking around for something she could use to kill the fleas. She said to the cat," Now, you stay right here, little kitty, and I’ll find something to put on those pesty fleas."
After searching for about 15 to 20 minutes, or so, Mom came across this gallon-sized bottle with some clear liquid in it. She opened the jar and took a sniff. She quickly said to herself, "Oh boy! That stuff really stinks!"
Then she thought to herself, "Maybe that’s just what this poor little thing needs." She figured that even though it might not kill the fleas (all that well), the odor would surely drive them away and free the cat from that terrible inching and scratching that was goin’ on.
Unfortunately for the cat, as well as for Mom (later on), she didn’t realize the stuff she was puttin’ on that poor cat was turpentine. Now, Dad had all kinds of bottles hangin’ around the shed, with different liquids in them that he used in his work. If he had’a been there, he would’a stopped her - right then and there!. Anyhow, he wasn’t and Mom was, so she proceeded to put some of this stuff on the cat.
She decided the best way to get in on, was to just poor it on. When she did, that poor kitty took off like a bottle rocket. It was rollin’ around the yard like a earthworm in soft dirt. Finally, it shot off and ran behind the shed. Well, Mom went in the house with a big grin on her face - she just knew she’d done well.
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