When Matt and I were little kids, we had a babysitter whom we called "Miss Tish". She was a hard looking woman in a child's mind (at least my mind). Our summer days were spent at her house where she lived on a farm. They had cows, chickens, and a small grape vineyard. (Probably more crops, but as a child, this is what I remembered.) She would milk the cows every morning and make her own cheese and buttermilk with her churn. It fascinated me to watch her use that churn. I don't know why exactly. Maybe because I'd never really seen one anywhere else but her house, and certainly none that were used everyday. Every morning, without fail, she made us pancakes. We both loved her pancakes. Completely homemade, completely from scratch with fresh milk straight from the cow. It's funny to me how we both hated the milk, though. She actually bought milk from the store just for us to drink. I'm not entirely sure what makes it taste so different, but I honestly don't see how anyone can stomach fresh cow's milk. I love store bought milk and always have. Can't stand the other stuff. Weird.
Though she never said so, it didn't take long for me to notice that my brother was hands-down Miss Tish's favorite. I was a little offended at first, but let's face it, Matt was way cuter than me...and spunkier. Four years younger with strikingly blonde hair and blue eyes? What's not to love? She would make his pancakes into different shapes, take him out to the hen house to help her collect the eggs, and let him pick some of the grapes off the vine. To be fair, he was about 4 years old, I think. She may have thought I was too "cool" for shapes and given his age (and 'spunkiness'), she probably felt that he needed to be near her at all times. Still, we both had a good time at her house.
We would jump on her trampoline nearly every day and pretend we were karate warriors. Sometimes there were other kids there to play with and Miss Tish would often yell at us older ones to be careful with the younger ones. She even made us take turns sometimes...younger ones, and then us "big kids". Even the younger ones didn't like that because they couldn't bounce as high without us. (I popped a kid in the face with my foot once. Not intentionally, of course, but he was being obnoxious at the time.)
Then, there were the days when we got to help feed the calves. We'd carry those humongous baby bottles to the fence and here they'd come. Even at such a young age, a cow (one of the dumbest animals on the planet) knew to come. They were a mess to feed...all slobbery and gross. haha There was one day when Matt and I were out by the fence by ourselves. I'm not sure where Miss Tish was. Maybe she had to use the restroom or something but in any event, there we were, just me and Matt. Being four years his senior meant that I could see over the top of the fence and he couldn't. This really bothered him. It was a barbed-wire fence so it's not like he couldn't see into the pasture but it still bugged him that I had a clearer view. That's when he noticed an old glass door that was propped on it's side and leaning against the fence. I offered to lift him up but he wanted to make his way on his own (and play Superman in the process, I suspect.). So, he backed up a good distance to get a running start. The plan was for him to jump on top of the door. Instead, he jumped into the door. And it broke. And left a piece or two in his knee. He screamed, of course. I suppose having a glass door in your leg is pretty painful. Miss Tish came running out. Mom was called. I'm pretty sure she took him to the hospital when she got there. I don't remember him having any stitches, but he definitely had a battle scar after that. We've recalled that story many times. That may be where his nickname "Super Seabolt" originated. ;)
So now you know the story of life with my little brother at Miss Tish's house. He was all boy which is probably the real reason Miss Tish had him by her side most of the time. (She still scared me pretty regularly. Like I said, she looked like a hard woman.) But not only did she make us pancakes, let us feed the calves and jump on her trampoline, she also taught us how to blow bubbles through a spool and she used her scrap material to sew me more Barbie clothes. Hmm...maybe he wasn't favored after all...NAH! He was definitely favored. ;)
Happy Birthday, Matty! You are so very, very missed.
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