25
Mama’s Pig Story

On the way back from the mailbox, Lily leafed through a magazine that had come in the mail today. Most of it was advertisements and a few articles about farming. Then a headline on a page caught her eye: “Submit your humorous story and win!” She read on: If the magazine printed your story, it would pay you one hundred dollars.

Lily tried to think of everything she could buy with one hundred dollars. Wouldn’t Papa and Mama be pleased if she were paid for something she wrote? She was sure she could write a funny story. How easy! Simple. Funny things happened to her all the time. Practically every day.

Lily ran to her room and sat down at her desk with her writing tablet. Think, think, think. She tapped her pencil on her desktop. Then she drew a whole row of smiley faces along the top of her page and some flowers along the bottom. She noticed a dead bee on the windowsill and wondered how long it had been there. Think, think, think. What was something funny that had happened recently? Her mind was a blank.

She thought of dessert last night. Paul was eating the frosting off the cake top. When Papa told him to eat the bottom first, he turned his piece of cake upside down and kept eating the frosting. That was funny! Everyone laughed. But when Lily tried to write it, the story didn’t seem very amusing. Who wanted to read about a baby?

She picked up the magazine and went to find Mama, hoping she might have a good idea for a funny story.

Mama skimmed the article. “I’m not sure what you could write about,” she said. “Maybe you can make something up.” She turned back to the article to read it more thoroughly. “Lily, would you mind if I tried writing a story too?”

“I don’t mind,” Lily said. Not a bit. She would be pleased if Mama had a story published in that magazine.

That evening, as soon as Paul was tucked into bed, Mama set to work. Lily watched her at the kitchen table. Her pencil flew back and forth across the paper. Lily’s pencil never flew. It barely walked. Mama made it look so easy. Before long, she put her pencil down, satisfied. She handed the paper to Papa.

He read it and laughed out loud. “You did a fine job, Rachel.”

Mama seemed pleased at Papa’s praise. She let Lily read what she’d written. It was a story about the time Mama had helped catch a pig that had escaped from its pen. It was a very funny story and it was true.

Mama took a long envelope from Papa’s desk and tucked her folded story inside. She addressed it in her neat, careful handwriting, stamped it, and propped it on top of the desk to take to the mailbox in the morning.

Lily looked at it. The envelope looked fat and interesting. She hoped whoever read the story would like it as much as she and Papa had. She was sure that Mama would hear back from the publisher soon. So each day, she came home from school and asked Mama if she had heard from the magazine yet. Each day, Mama would smile and say not yet.

Then Lily forgot about it.

Weeks later, Mama met her at the door and held up an envelope for Lily to see. “They liked my story,” she said. “I got a letter in the mail today saying they want to publish it in their next issue.”

“Did they pay you one hundred dollars?” Lily asked. A fortune!

“Yes,” Mama said. “And I already know how I want to spend it.”

Lily did too! Candy, books, games.

“I want to buy a little coal water heater,” Mama said.

What?! But, but, but . . . it should be spent on something fun! Lily thought. Something wonderful and delicious.

Mama smiled at the look of horror on Lily’s face. “Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to heat water on the stove to wash the dishes? Or in the big kettle in the basement for the laundry and bath time?”

Lily had to give that some thought. It would be nice to have hot water come straight out of the faucet. Not quite as nice as one hundred dollars’ worth of candy, but it would be nice. “Does Papa know they liked your story?”

“Yes,” Mama said. “He brought the mail to the house and watched me open the envelope. He already went to buy everything we need to set up the hot water heater.”

Lily stopped to listen. No hum of Papa’s woodworking machinery came from his shop. The house seemed strangely quiet.

Lily’s excitement grew as she ran to change into her everyday clothes. She hoped Papa would get right to work on installing the coal water heater the minute he returned home. Papa knew how to do everything. Tonight, she might get to have a hot bath, with hot water right from the faucets!

When Papa returned from town, he started to cut copper pipes and fastened fittings to them. He installed the hot water pipes beside the cold water pipes that carried water throughout the house. He stopped only for supper, then lit the lantern and kept on working.

Too soon, it was time for bed. Papa hadn’t finished and Lily was disappointed that she had to go to bed before there was running hot water. What about the hot bath she had planned? “Patience is needed in all kinds of things, Lily,” Papa told her. “Including plumbing hardware. The glue on the pipes needs to dry overnight before we fire up the water heater. We don’t want to have leaks just because we didn’t wait long enough for everything to dry properly.”

The next morning, Lily woke as the first streaks of pink tinted the eastern skies. She hopped out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Mama was making breakfast. Papa had already milked Pansy and was ready to start the fire in the water heater. He smiled when he saw Lily. “Would you run to the shop and bring back some wood shavings?”

Lily slipped on her coat and ran to Papa’s shop. She filled her apron with shavings from the pile under the wood planer. Down in the basement, Papa scooped several handfuls of shavings from her apron and piled them on top of wood scraps he had arranged on the bottom of the heater. He took a match and lit a piece of wood shaving. Lily and Papa and Mama watched as the flame flickered slowly, slowly, then poof! A fire started. Papa added a few scoopfuls of coal and closed the little door to the heater. “There,” he said, satisfied. “If all goes according to plan, we should have hot water to wash the dishes by the time we’re done eating breakfast.”

“Can I wash dishes this morning all by myself?” Lily asked. She wanted to be the first one in the house to use the hot water.

Papa and Mama exchanged a look, then they both laughed. What was so funny?

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you volunteer to wash dishes,” Mama said.

The very second Papa finished the prayer that signaled breakfast was over, Lily grabbed her plate and hurried over to the sink. She knew Joseph had his eye on that hot water faucet and wanted to be the first to try it. He had been talking about it all during breakfast. She opened the faucet and soon steamy hot water came pouring out. This was fun! She added soap and watched it bubble up. A nice layer of suds emerged on the top of the water—she didn’t even have to swish her hands back and forth. Soon, the dishpan was full and she had to turn the water off. And then reality set in. The actual washing part was no different.

Lily looked at the mountain of dirty dishes and pans stacked on the counter. So that was why Papa and Mama had laughed. They knew that washing dishes was the same, no matter how the water had been heated. Her excitement about washing dishes fizzled out.

The next day was Sunday. Lily stood quietly next to Mama as the women visited with each other before church started. That’s what little girls did until they turned ten and could visit with their friends. Alice Raber, Beth’s mother, turned to Mama. “I read that story you wrote for that farm magazine. Jonas and I got a good laugh over it. Did it really happen that way?”

“Yes, it did,” Mama said, chuckling. “It was a pig chase I’ll never forget.”

Other women had read the story and told Mama they enjoyed it. Everyone thought it was funny—everyone except for Ida Kauffman. Ida lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Lily, standing next to Mama. “Now I see why Lily is the way she is. Der Appel rollt net weit vum Baum.” The apple will not roll far away from its tree.

How mean! How rude. Lily clenched her fists at her sides. Ida Kauffman was just like Effie. They both said hateful things. Lily thought about stepping on Ida’s foot, hard, but Mama put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Well, Ida,” Mama said in a sweet voice, “that pig chase story has provided us with money for hot water.”

Ida Kauffman was flustered; she was at a rare loss for words. The Kauffmans didn’t have hot water. Mama knew that! Lily could barely hold back a big grin. She did, she held back that smug grin, but just barely.

Mama’s Pig Story

On a hot summer afternoon in July, our neighbor came huffing and puffing up our driveway, shouting, “Rachel! Rachel Lapp! Your pig got loose!”

My husband, Daniel, and I had been married only a few months. My uncle had given us a feeder pig as a wedding present. If we could get this pig up to a certain weight by winter, we would be able to sell it for a profit. But this pig was a little too smart for us. He escaped on a regular basis and found his way over to our neighbor’s garden where he would root out carrots and potatoes, then roll in the soft, cool dirt.

Daniel tried all kinds of ways to keep that pig in his pen. Finally, he fenced the pen with chicken wire and put double latches on the gates. But obviously, that sneaky pig had found a way out of his pen and made his way into the neighbor’s garden.

Our neighbor was a bachelor and liked to keep to himself. He was also a rather portly fellow. Chasing our pig off his property had quickly grown tiresome. Our friendship with our neighbor was on thin ice because of that clever pig.

On that July day, when I heard the neighbor call my name, I dashed outside and ran to the garden. There was the pig, rolling in mud in the neighbor’s garden. Daniel was at work, so the task of retrieving the pig fell to me.

Most of you know that chasing a pig is no Sunday picnic. They are extremely difficult to catch. The neighbor quickly became winded and leaned against the fence to catch his breath. The pig darted and dashed all around the garden; I darted and dashed behind him. I was covered in mud, head to toe. But I refused to let that pig get the best of me. Finally, he paused by the zucchini plants to nibble some blossoms. I tiptoed up behind him and made a headlong dive. I caught him by the tail! He squealed and grunted as I slipped a rope around its neck. I had caught that smart pig all by myself! I couldn’t wait to tell Daniel what I had done today.

I apologized to the neighbor and promised that Daniel would repair the damage done to the garden. I walked home with the pig, pleased. We were both covered in mud. I was grinning ear to ear, the pig was complaining. He kept up a steady stream of squeals, grunts, and grumbles.

Then an odd feeling started in my stomach and traveled to my head. Our feeder pig didn’t have a tail. Sure enough, as I walked past the barn to the pigpen, there was our feeder pig, curled up in a corner of the pen, sound asleep.

I looked down at the pig by my side. “Oh my. You’re not my pig.”

He looked back up at me, as if to say, “That’s what I was trying to tell you!”