The year was 1939. The Depression was over for some but not true at our house. Daddy was working for Kirby Lumber Company at Call sawmill, making twenty eight cents an hour. There were certain items, such as bananas, apples, and oranges that were not often found on Mama's grocery list because these were considered a luxury. Mama was making a rare trip to town that day. She would pay my uncle seventy-five cents for gas in his old pick-up truck. My aunt and two young cousins, along with Mama were crowded in the ca b of the truck. This left my five year old brother to ride in the back of the truck. My two older brothers and I left for school that morning with high hopes of Mama bringing us a treat; perhaps sticks of peppermint candy or some fruit. After all, hadn't she said “maybe” and wasn't that almost a promise? The school day dragged on and we wondered if we would get home before Mama did. We were on the school ground for our afternoon recess when the answer was revealed to us. Our school was located at Trout Creek on Hwy 87 . The school yard fence separated us from the narrow dirt road. Not many cars passed during the day and the top speed of any given car would not exceed twenty miles per hour. From the time a vehicle came into view, kids would line up at the fence to see if they knew them,gawk at them, and so forth. I was playing “London Bridges Falling Down” when my older brothers, Sam and Roy, called me to the fence. “we think that's Mama” they informed me. Slowly the old pickup labored, panted, growled and snorted as it made its way in the deep ruts of sand. We wondered aloud if Mama had anything for us. As the truck got even with us, Mama waved and said she would see us at the house. As the truck crept on its way, three pair of eyes locked on our little brother, Jack, in the back of the truck. Our glee turned absolute horror when we saw something long and yellow in Jack's hand. It was the most coveted of all fruit, to us anyway. It was a banana. We hoped he was just eating his a bit early and thought he should wait and eat his at the same time we were eating ours. We knew there would only be one each. At that moment he discarded the empty peel with one hand and at the same time, reached into a sack with the other hand. He pulled out a banana and before our very eyes, peeled a small bit at one end. He put that end in his mouth and hit the other end of the banana. The peeling fell away and the entire banana disappeared down the little monster's throat. “Oh no. He's getting another,” we three siblings chorused in one voice. At once, the entire line of kids at the fence joined us. “You Jack! Stop it. Do you hear ! You've already eaten more than your share”But Jack just kept on devouring bananas. The agony of having to watch this , (in slow motion no less) was very painful. The truck slowly made its way around a curve and out of sight. Our hearts were heavy and our tempers were hot. Hope against hope was that Mama had splurge and bought two bananas for each child. When we reached home the bare facts were presented. Little brother had one redeeming fact to present in his defense. He had left one banana in the sack for Daddy's lunch the next day. Mama threatened us with a whipping if we mentioned any of this to Daddy. We all knew what he would do with that one banana. He would carefully decide it into three equal pieces; declaring he never really liked bananas anyway. We wouldn't have told for anything. We knew he worked very hard and how tenderhearted he was concerning his children. We wanted him to have that banana in his lunch. We also knew we would tend to the brat, Jack in due time. That night, for some reason, Brother Jack moaned and groaned for some time. Each time I heard a moan, I smiled slyly to myself. I think Sam and Roy did too.