When I was a little girl, it was hard to find a better friend than Cousin Vera. She and I were the same age, as close as sisters, and like two peas in a pod… playful, full of giggles, and always in trouble of one kind or another.

Vera’s mother was Dad’s sister, Maggie Clay Thomas.  Aunt Maggie’s family lived in Edgerton, Ohio, about six miles from our farm in rural DeKalb county Indiana. 

I always had a lot of fun at Vera’s house. Aunt Maggie allowed us to open old trunks and hatboxes in the attic, where we’d forage through ancient finery. After selecting big plumed hats, old-fashioned dresses, and moth eaten fur capes, we’d dress up, drape our necks with long strands of beads, and have a grand tea party surrounded by dolls.

But we especially enjoyed spending time at Grandma and Grandpa Clay’s farm, which was adjacent to ours.  Grandma always prepared something good for us to eat, like thick slices of bread warm from the oven, generously spread with fresh churned butter and strawberry jam.  Or she’d bake a batch of delicious sugar cookies, and serve them to us with glasses of ice-cold milk.  Afterwards, we’d usually wander out to the barn.

There was something extra homey about Grandma and Grandpa’s barn that made it our special place. Like most, it was huge and drafty with lots of corners to poke around and hide in. But it was also welcoming, with friendly occupants such as Otis the orange marmalade cat, and Grandma’s sweet fawn-colored Jersey cows, Elsa and Elizabeth who contentedly chewed their cuds as we scratched their ears. We particularly liked Spooky, the golden brown owl with the heart shaped face, who listened to our banter with a wise and knowing air. Additionally, the view of the lazy St Joe River from the loft doorway was breathtaking, fueling many happy hours of girl talk and daydreams. 

On a balmy day in the summer of 1914, I stood on the porch of Grandma and Grandpa Clay’s house impatiently waiting for Aunt Maggie and Vera to arrive.  I was doubly excited because it was thrashing time. Dad and Grandpa had just deposited two big sweet smelling straw stacks in the barnyard. Vera and I would have a ball climbing to the top of them, and sliding down again…a delight for any farm kid. 

But my jaw dropped in disappointment when Vera stepped out of the buggy.  One look at her, and I knew my plans were in peril. 

She was wearing a frilly pink and white gingham dress tied with a wide pink sash, lacy pink socks, and white slippers. Her long curly strawberry blonde hair was tied back with a large pink bow.  She looked very pretty but it wasn’t practical attire for roaming the farm with an adventuresome country cousin like me.  I on the other hand, was dressed for business…nine-year-old kid business. I wore a thin, much-washed dress that had seen better days, complete with my oldest pair of lace up boots. I wasn’t exactly fashionable, but what I had on was infinitely more suitable for outdoor rough and tumble than what Vera wore.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by Vera’s appearance. Aunt Maggie was a talented seamstress that insisted her daughters always present themselves to the world as well bred young ladies.  Recently, I’d overheard Grandma telling Mother that Aunt Maggie had begun including Vera in her older sister Nadine’s deportment classes.  As a result, my worst fears were being realized…my naturally mischievous, fun loving cousin was disappearing beneath a layer of petticoats, and pontificating good manners.  I had to rescue her quickly before she lost all sense of who she really was.

“Aunt Maggie why didn’t you let her wear old clothes? We want to play!” I protested.

“Dear Heart, she’ll just have to be extra careful and stay clean” smiled Aunt Maggie fondly, as she plucked a few blades of grass from my braids.

It was downright ludicrous to expect careful and clean, considering the activities I had planned for us.   

And to make matters worse, Miss Vera Stick-In-The-Mud told me on the way to the barn that she intended to obey her mother’s request to the letter. Sliding down dusty straw piles was simply out of the question.  

Things were worse than I thought they were.  On top of turning into a prissy pants, she was also becoming a genuine pain in the neck.

“Why don’t we go inside the barn and play in the hay loft. It’s cleaner there,” I suggested.

We climbed up the ladder to the loft where the fresh hay was kept. 

“I have a great idea!  I’ll make a big hay pile on the barn floor and we can jump onto it from the loft! You won’t get dirty doing that!” I enthusiastically announced, hoping my proposal would be an effective compromise.

 But Vera wanted no part of that arrangement either.

“Oh no!!! I’m not gonna jump all that way! It’s too far down!!!!!!!”

“You’re just a big fraidy cat!” I taunted. “I’ve done it lots of times.  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Vera gave a long reluctant sigh.  She knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t let up on her until she gave in.  

“Well ok…if YOU jump first, I’ll jump down after you.” 

I went down the ladder and got the hay ready.  Scrambling back up to the loft, I took a deep breath and leaped.

Unfortunately, Vera didn’t wait until I was out of the way before following me.  To avoid landing on my head, she rolled off to the side of the hay pile, hit the floor, and bruised her knee in the process. 

Tears of pain flooded her eyes, and she began to cry.  Of course I immediately felt guilty for bullying her into doing something she didn’t want to do.

But then she had the nerve to get angry with me for telling her to jump in the first place!

So much for misplaced compassion.

“Well if you had waited until I got out of the way like you were supposed to do, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” I scolded. “Besides, no one made you jump. Now if you are done being a cry baby, let’s do something else!”

Scaling the ladder to the loft, I peered out of the big high doorway that overlooked the barnyard.  As luck would have it, one of the huge straw piles was perfectly positioned below the upper doorway. 

“Hey Vera!  I have another great idea!! Let’s jump out of the hayloft door onto the straw pile in the barnyard! ” I hollered down to my sniveling, limping companion.

Vera’s mouth was agape in horror.

“Now I know you’re crazy!  I’m NOT gonna do THAT!” she said. “The animals have been going to the bathroom in the barnyard! ”

“Vera, they haven’t been going to the bathroom on the straw pile!  You won’t come anywhere near poop. Will you TRUST me?”

“Well…ok. But nothing bad had better happen or I’m telling Mama that it was your idea to jump. And you have to go first!!!”

So, I did.

Regrettably, Vera didn’t learn much from the earlier hayloft incident. She leapt before I was out of the way, again.

I darted out of the way to avoid a collision as she rolled off the straw pile, and dropped seat first in a fresh, wet, mammoth sized mound of cow manure. 

SPLAT!

It suffices to say that timing wasn’t Vera’s strong suit.

Oh, she was a stinking sight!  The manure was spattered and caked on her dress, in her hair, down her leg, and was smeared all over her socks and slippers.

And of course, there more tears.  Only this time I was tempted to join her. If the truth were known, I was terrified at the thought of Aunt Maggie’s reaction when she saw Vera’s new clothes.

“My mother is going to kill me, and its all YOUR FAULT Helen Clay!!!!!!!” she sobbed.

“Well, once again you didn’t wait until I was out of the way, or this wouldn’t have happened!” I retorted harshly, not willing to be blamed for her bad timing. “Let’s go up to the pump and wash you off!”

Those who are familiar with the rudimentary details of farm life know that cow manure will not come out of clothing using only plain water.  It only becomes a much larger mess.  But of course, little girls like us wouldn’t have known that.

Vera held her leg under the water while I pumped. Sopping wet dung was drizzling down her ankle, when Aunt Maggie caught a passing glimpse of us from the kitchen window.  Not believing her eyes, she did a double take. 

The look of fury on her face nearly caused my heart to stop beating.

 “What’s wrong?” Vera asked in a panicky voice. 

All I could do was mutely stare at the kitchen door as it burst open, and Aunt Maggie stalked out.

I don’t think I have EVER seen anyone so angry.  Aunt Maggie stripped off Vera’s clothes and stockings while she stood in the yard, paddled her behind, and sent her bawling into the house for a bath. Then, she ordered me to go home. 

I wasn’t about to argue.

But just as I was about to make a “clean” getaway, she changed her mind, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back.  Aunt Maggie was a tiny woman, but there were rare moments that she possessed the strength and temperament of a camel. We were eyeball to eyeball, as she held a death grip on my wrist. 

She scared me so bad that I almost wet myself.

“Not so fast!” she snarled in a way that was very un-Aunt Maggie-like, but clearly conveyed the message that I was dead meat if I gave her any lip. “When you get home, tell your Mother what happened, and have her send one of your dresses back here for Vera. Don’t dawdle either. Now SCOOT!!!”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.  I ran across the fields for home lickety-split, like a rabbit running from a pack of hungry wolves. 

But before I reached our house, a horrible thought stopped me dead in my tracks.

I couldn’t lend out one of my dresses without telling Mother what happened. What if she got all over me the same way Aunt Maggie did with poor Vera? 

My pace slowed to a crawl as I meandered along, trying to figure a way out of the mess I was in.  I began rehearsing an elaborate confession… all the while portraying myself as a blameless, unwilling participant.

Despite my carefully prepared speech, I burst into tears and blubbered the whole sorry tale to Mother the minute I got inside the door…all the while keeping my fanny firmly pressed to the wall.

But to my surprise, she didn’t punish me!  In fact I think Mother was desperately struggling to keep a straight face, as I sobbingly related what happened to poor Vera.  I suppose Mother thought having to face Aunt Maggie twice in one day was punishment enough. 

As I returned to Grandma’s house with the dress for Vera, I crept up to the porch, laid it down quickly, then turned tail and ran faster than lightening.  I wasn’t going to stick around long enough to give Aunt Maggie a chance to clean up on me too!

Years later, Vera expressed regret at missing out on a lot of the carefree fun I’d taken for granted when we were children. Determined to make different choices for her kids, she encouraged them to get dirty, and fill their days with discovery, laughter, mischief, and imagination.  Since childhood was a fleeting proposition at best, Vera wanted her offspring to look back on their youth with happiness, instead of longing for missed opportunities.

After all, there were haylofts to jump out of, straw piles to be climbed, clothing to soil, and memories to collect…enduring souvenirs of their enchanted journeys to adulthood.