Dundy County Babe

BLACK BABY

(Mama rarely talked of my escapades. Once she mentioned I had gotten into a bucket of black axle grease. In this story I have tried to illustrate a two-year olds delight with this taboo substance and her mother’s reaction.)

Alvin, Lyle, and Dad had concentrated their thoughts on getting the cultivators greased and out into the field to cultivate the corn before the cloudless windless day became a scorcher. The corn was tall enough to be seen above the dirt ridges. No one took time to put the lid on the half used ten-pound bucket of black axle grease but left it in the driveway, and rushed out to the field. The barnyard was quiet except for the crowing of the roosters and clucking of the hens calling to their babies. Even the cattle and baby calves were out in the pasture grazing.

“What a beautiful day for washing!” Mama said, as she prepared to do the laundry after she and I had fed the baby chicks. We came back to the house; I sat down to play in the yard. Mama quickly got the copper wash boiler into the house, set it on the kitchen range then filled it with water. She built a hot cob fire. The baby’s clothes had to be boiled.

I had grown tired of playing with my favorite toys – a pan, a lid, and a big spoon, and looked for a new adventure. I toddled out the open yard gate. I saw something new. “What’s that? Could it be a new toy?” I thought as I toddled to the open bucket of axle grease. I bent over and touched it. “Oh, this is fun!” I mused as I pressed my little fingers into more and more of the soft, black, shiny stuff. I sat down and started covering my arms and legs with the black, slippery slime. As I smeared my legs, the sand clung to my hands but I did not care, this was fun! There was plenty more of this soft, black, shiny stuff in the bucket.

While the water was heating, Mama began to sort the clothes. She thought, “If I will set my wash and rinse tubs out on the porch, I will not have the mess on the kitchen floor.” She began to set the wash tubs on the wash bench on the porch and laid the washboard with the lye soap nearby. As she filled the rinse tubs with water, she realized everything was very, very quiet, actually too quiet. She stopped and listened. “Where is that baby?” she questioned. “What is she into now?” Immediately she called and looked around the yard but did not see me.

Into the house she flew! She looked in the kitchen, in the front room, in the bedroom, and back to the kitchen. She called as she looked. Not one little peep or happy coo did she hear, not one rattle of my pan. Everywhere silence met her ears. Panic set in when she stepped back outside and saw the open yard gate. “Did she get tangled up in that machinery as the men left? Oh, I pray she did not toddle down to the water tank and climb up the side and fall into the water,” she thought as she frantically continued her search. Still she didn't see me. Then she began to run out the yard gate toward the water tank, and dreaded what she might see.

She stopped abruptly in the middle of the driveway. There I sat, next to that open bucket of black axle grease—a very black, greasy, two-year-old who continued to slather the black grease mixed with sand on my face, arms, and legs. My hands were full of grease as I squished it through my little fingers. “Thank God!” Mama said relieved, as she walked towards that little, black, greasy figure. I continued to slather on more of the grease and sand mixture. “What a mess, you are!” she proclaimed as she walked up and disturbed my concentration of play.

She stood still and stared at me. I looked up and said, “Look-ie, Ma-ma, pretty?” as I squished more black, sandy ooze between my fingers and onto my body and clothes.

Mama quickly snapped the lid on that grease bucket, as she said, “A mess! You are a big mess, a great, big, black, greasy, stinky mess! Not pretty at all! You smell like grease. Ugh! How will I ever get you clean?” Then she grabbed me under my arms, held me away from her, and quickly marched into the yard. She popped me down so hard that I batted my eyes. I was away from everything. “Now stay there!” she demanded as she rushed into the house for some rags.

She quickly returned and started with the top layer of sandy grease. Off came my black, greasy, sandy clothes. I calmly continued to squish that warm, black ooze between my fingers until she wiped my hands clean. I’d tasted it. “Yuck!” I cried and spit it out as Mama cleaned my face and mouth again.