AT THE RANCH
by Eva Pasco
Before you get the notion I'm going to drawl about roping cattle or
saddling up at the "Flat Broke Ranch," I'm not steering you there by a longhorn shot. Instead, I'm rustling up
a few memories growing up during the Sixties inside a one-level, five room
ranch house in Lincoln, Rhode Island. This was back in the day when a rural community was the upstart of the
burbs--at least in my neck of the woods where our nearest neighbor was about a half mile up the country
My father's uncle and his crew built our white ranch with red stained trim on a
corner half-acre lot. Right away I should mention it had one bathroom for four people, virtually unheard of these
days with the trend for spreading and sprawling by specialties: sewing room, reading room, mud room, playroom,
laundry room, multiple baths and a lavette for every room--you get my drift. Anyway, "one" bathroom put a strain on
family dynamics, especially since I monopolized it for primping and pampering. Hence, the other three dudes at the
ranch teamed up to coin a nickname for me-- "Miss Prim."
While our living room was reserved for special occasions, we gathered in the den for
watching television and playing checkers. Two bedrooms remained, mandating my sister and I cohabit the same
quarters. Believe me, there weren't many harmonious moments by virtue of our diverse nature. For one, my night owl
reading habits ruffled her early bird feathers.
I not only took over the clothes closet, but staked my claims along the boundaries of
the bedroom during our childhood. Prominent in my mind is a black toy piano with color coded keys that produced
chime-like tones whenever I played "Mary Had a Little Lamb" or "Baa Baa Black Sheep." A green and white vinyl chest
stuffed with toys and books occupied the wall by the window. A victrola and collection of 45 rpm Looney Tunes
records rested on top of the chest, along with my coveted View-Master. This visual contraption called for a
story slide-wheel one inserted inside a looking device similar to a pair of binoculars. By clicking, you enabled
the wheel to advance, thereby viewing vivid Disney images. I can still recall marveling at Cinderella’s bright
orange pumpkin coach....
Growing up inside our ranch during the Sixties may have spawned many "too close for
comfort" moments and invasions of privacy. Of course, there was always the unfinished basement or cellar for
retreat. Nevertheless, there's something to be said for nowhere to run or hide inside one's domicile because the
four of us became a close-knit family.
Click the book images to order your
copy of the
Signed copies of the Paperback, 40 % off suggested retail,
may be acquired at the Authors Den Signed Bookstore via Eva’s web page: http://www.authorsden.com/evapasco