She Makes Me Laugh

Yellow petals with deep brown centers turn their faces toward the sun. One after another they smile at me as the car moves past them. I am piled in the back seat of my Grandpa’s car with my siblings and cousins. The flowers stretch along the country road like a golden ribbon as far as I can see. We stick our hands out the window and touch them as we pass.

We are going to Wamego to play at the park. I love the large slides that are so steep it is impossible to stop once I’ve let go of the railings at the top. And the swings!  They go so high! When I am swinging and look up toward the sky it feels like I could touch the white fluffy clouds with my well-worn sneakers. I would never tell anybody that my tummy feels a little funny on the way down when I’m flying backwards. I like going up better.

My two aunts and mother and Grandmother are setting out a picnic lunch on a long splintery wooden picnic table. It takes two red and white checked vinyl tablecloths for us to all sit around. All of my favorite foods are there: Grandma’s county-fair-award-winning fried chicken, Aunt Loreen’s potato salad, Mom’s deviled eggs, Auntie Lou’s homegrown vegetable platter. My dad has churned homemade ice cream and put strawberries from his garden in it. It is hidden in a large wooden tub by an old colorful rag rug thrown over the top. I know it is there, though, because Dad’s been talking about it all week. I’m going to save some room for the ice cream because it is my favorite food in the whole world. I don’t want to stop playing when the adults call me to eat because I am having too much fun. I can’t resist my favorite foods, though, so I come running to the table.

The chicken has a coating on it that is crispy and I really love it. I overhear my grandmother tell my mother she got up early to fry it up. I don’t know how she does it but my Aunt Loreen’s potato salad always has the same yummy taste! The potatoes are soft and hard at the same time. I will ask her someday when I’m bigger just how she does that. My mom has told me the secret to making her deviled eggs but I am not going to tell anyone that she puts sugar in the yolks. I love to put a whole half an egg in my mouth and squeeze out the yellow part before one of the adults tells me to bit it into small pieces and eat more slowly. Auntie Lou’s vegetables are great. Her tomatoes are “outstanding” this year, she tells everyone. Carrots, cucumbers, and celery with peanut butter and raisons are laid out on lettuce in the shape of a face. She is a 5th grade teacher and always makes food fun for us kids.

As soon as I am done eating, including the ice cream, I ask to be excused from the table. The hot summer sun blazes down on us.  I hear my grandpa say the air is so thick he can taste it. I open my mouth and shut my eyes, trying to taste the heavy air, too. When I don’t taste anything I run like a deer to a free swing. My cousins and siblings and I play hard. We run back and forth between swings and slides, teeter-totters and monkey bars.

When I am too tired to play another minute we pile in the car and ride the 20 minutes home. The sun is low in the sky now. It is quickly becoming that in-between time when the light changes and then gives way to pink. The bugs loud chirping becomes part of the evening. I put my head back and rest it against the cool crinkle of the clear plastic seat cover. My eyes are heavy and I am full of being part of the comfort that feels like love in this family. My five-year-old feet do not touch the floor. Next to me is my cousin LouAnn. She is three and cuddles up to me as we fall asleep.

I have no memories of my life without LouAnn. In my mind, she is the hot summer air, the wind blowing on my cheeks, the seat cover, swings high up in the sky. But most of all—she is a sunflower. Being with her reminds me to turn my face to the sun.

LouAnn is my Aunt Loreen and Uncle Tommy’s daughter. Their son, Paul is twelve years older than LouAnn. He is a star. He is dark and handsome and is still young enough to comply with and play out all of his parent’s dreams. He is a really good football player—with the promise of going to college on a scholarship, beating state records, placing in the country’s standings, and playing professionally someday. This is what the adults are always talking about. I don’t know exactly what they mean. All I know is that the girls really like Paul. His mom and dad bought him a convertible. He drives up and down Main Street, his car full of girls—with his arm around the one who has his large class ring dangling by a chain around her neck.

LouAnn and I don’t understand why the whole family treats Paul like he is so special. We know Uncle Tommy must be happy because he is a high school football coach. Years of throwing the ball back and forth for hours with Paul have paid off. Uncle Tommy is always smiling and everyone knows it is because of Paul. My Grandpa, who likes boys better than girls, treats Paul like a prince in my fairy storybooks. Nothing is too good for Paul and if he needs anything Grandpa gets it for him, if his parents don’t beat him to it. My Aunt Loreen holds onto her hopes for Paul like when she is playing bridge and doesn’t want anyone to see her hand. She looks like she is happy with Paul, but I think she has lots of hopes for him she isn’t talking about. It seems to me that everyone in the family is only paying attention to Paul.

LouAnn can find no place for herself in her house. She is invisible to everyone. She tries to get noticed by practicing football and baseball, too. No one pays attention because those are games for boys. She turns to food. I think she eats to feel better. She eats to feel loved. She eats to stuff how angry she is at being overlooked again and again. She eats to be noticed. She eats to hide. She eats for comfort. She eats and eats and eats and by early grade school does not even fit into the husky clothes at JC Pennys. Aunt Loreen sews clothes for her but is angry about it. LouAnn has finally found a way to be seen. Even negative attention is better than none.

I am only in grade school but I know LouAnn is unhappy. We don’t talk about it because we both have been drilled to not talk to anyone, even family. We make up a secret way to communicate with each other without using words. She knows I care about her. We play outside whenever we are together. When there is a family dinner we eat fast so that we can run and change into old clothes to go outside! She likes to play sports and so do I. We shoot baskets and play catch with my new softball, bat and glove. She likes to climb trees, too. She is fun.

LouAnn is not sad and angry all the time. Sometimes she cracks jokes. She is the funniest person I have ever known. She is funnier than the class clown at school. She is funnier than the people who try to make you laugh on the Ed Sullivan show. She makes everyone in my family, except maybe Grandpa laugh. She gets us laughing at ourselves, at each other, at her. When she is around we can’t help but laugh out right out loud.

She can make a joke out of anything. I remember a funny time at one of our family dinners. Auntie Lou and Uncle Glen and their two kids, Aunt Loreen and Uncle Tommy, Paul and LouAnn, my parents, my brother and sister and me and our grandparents are all sitting around the big dining room table at my grandparents’. Sparkly glasses, shiny silverware and special plates with blue flowers are sitting on a tatted tablecloth my grandmother just finished. Like always, there is too much food and our plates are heaped high. LouAnn is sitting on my left and the mashed potatoes are coming around to her. She gets a good hold on my grandmother’s special dish. As she hands it to me pushes the dish down and says, “be careful, it’s heavy.” I luckily get a quick grip on the dish just as she suddenly releases the pressure and the potatoes fly across the table into my sister, Susanne’s, plate.

LouAnn and I burst out laughing after we see that no dishes are broken. We cannot stop laughing. The more we try to stop, the more other people laugh and pretty soon, everyone, even grandma and grandpa are laughing out loud. I fall off my chair I am laughing so hard and so does LouAnn. I wonder why my family has never all laughed together before? My family talks about that day for years. No dinner ever goes by without someone adding a little extra weight to a dish as they pass it while saying the same words LouAnn said about the dish being heavy. She always keeps us laughing.

When we get into high school LouAnn excels in track and field with the shot put. She shows promise for the Olympics, but by this time, Paul has broken free from their parents. This really upsets Aunt Loreen and Uncle Tommy. They act like they don’t want to leave their house or be at family get-togethers anymore. They are quiet and withdrawn. For years they are pale and don’t talk to me--ever. LouAnn knows that there is no way, even with her humor, to help lift them up. She has two years of high school before she can leave home and go to college.  LouAnn becomes invisible again. I watch as she retreats from the world to survive her downhearted, despondent, gloomy life at home.

After we go our separate ways and are living in different parts of the country, I find myself missing LouAnn. We begin talking on the phone. We talk and talk about our hopes and dreams, our lives. At some point it becomes clear that our deep connection is a treasured friendship that began in childhood. As a young adult, I find myself valuing this meaningful friendship in spite of the fact that we are related. She always makes me laugh. All I need to do is to think about LouAnn and I laugh and remember to turn my face to the sun.