Uncle Peter mattered a lot to Charlie and Butts.
So, I'm going to remember him from my first hand experience.
There were five brothers in the "Yarber" family (California pronunciation)
There was Henry, Burr, Bill the Butcher, Peter, and John (my father-in-law)
Some were farmers, some were ranchers, one was a butcher, one was a cowboy, and one farmed rice.
Uncle Peter was the rice farmer.
He lived his life in a tiny house in California, and off and on, he would visit his brother John and family wherever they happened to be.
Charlie remembers Uncle Peter's bed making skills: He would exit from the head of the bed, pulling the covers with him, and when his feet hit the floor,the bed was made. He always did that....he was a considerate house guest!
But back to my visit with Uncle Peter.
Charlie and I were headed to Hawaii for his first duty station. Uncle Peter lived in California, so, naturally, we paid him a visit before we sailed.
We surprised him when we pulled up to his front yard. He was sitting on a chair on his front porch, his profile visible through the screen. A strong profile, definitely a Yarbrough.
But out he came, big grin, big burly hand reached out for a handshake. He was glad to see us.
I looked around at our surroundings....a tiny house. A front yard with vegetables: squash, pole beans, cucumbers...... cantaloupe! (You can't eat GRASS, was Uncle Peter's comment!)
A gate with a bell on it to keep the critters out.... I loved it!
Inside, we first passed through Uncle Peter's porch. His chair piled high with cushions, added one by one as it sagged so that he could see out his screened window. Practical...innovative...no pretense at all. That was Uncle Peter...
He sat there day and night, and I could see why. It was his way of relating to his neighbors, talking from his perch on his porch, keeping an eye on who passed by on that barely graveled road.
He didn't act particularly surprised when we pulled up. But he was definitely happy we did.
We walked directly into his kitchen. A tiny sink in front of a tiny window. A drainer with one dish and one fork and one glass in it....
A BED in the middle of the floor!!
That was where he slept, and it was made up exactly as Charlie had described it!
A long string attached to the bedframe led to a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Uncle Peter had things totally figured out. His needs were perfectly met in that cozy little house!
Well, of course we would stay the night....In the guest bedroom was a small chest of drawers, and in the bottom drawer there were sheets for me to make up the bed....
I opened it. There were the whitest, sweetest sheets I had ever seen....and they were ironed! And they were STARCHED! Yes, I do believe they were starched...
At that time I experienced "class" in the truest sense of the word....
When I finished, I went back to the kitchen where he and Charlie were having coffee....good, strong coffee. Uncle Peter was standing by the wall phone. He turned the crank (really!!) and in his booming voice said "Operator!! This is V.O. Yarbrough. Ring me the market."
We climbed into his truck, I in the passenger seat between these two huge men.....V.O Yarbrough drove us less than a mile for supplies for dinner....his nose 5 inches from the windshield, determined to get us there safely.
STEAKS!! I don't remember what else he purchased, because most of the accompaniments were there for the picking in his front yard.... Oh, I remember: Cake...dessert was a must!
We dined like kings...I was pregnant and hungry, and loving every minute.
Time for the men to go back out on the porch...... I would do the dishes. They needed time alone, and so did I....Filled the sink with hot water and soap. Picked up the dish rag.....
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!!!! Ohhh!!! HOW was I going to wash the dishes with THIS?
It was grey. I could deal with that....but the texture....Ohhhhh!!!
Dear Uncle Peter....I gritted my teeth and used it. And I'm still alive today.
They were discussing politics. I excused myself and climbed into that sweet bed. Crisp, cool sheets...sheer bliss.
They discussed....and discussed...and discussed....There was no arguing...(well, maybe just a little) but it went on and on.... And the guest room was situated less than ten feet from my men....and I was pregnant, I told you!!!
Don't know when I finally drifted off...don't know if Charlie made it to join me, but I awoke to those two outside my window touring the garden, and then in the back yard inspecting the goat he had tied up to mow what little vegetation was back there....
I was well rested, and happy to find myself in this fascinating, magical place!
Breakfast...some wonderful, thick slab bacon! I
Uncle Peter lit the stove and handed me the skillet. OhhhKAY!!! I like bacon....I did like bacon.... I'm pregnant, I told you! Thankful the bathroom was one step outside the kitchen stove....Poor Uncle Peter (a bachelor)....wonder what he thought!
This was in 1958...I've remembered that visit all these years. I'm so glad we stopped there....
We did see Peter years later when we had our family. He slept in our guest room....and he made his bed exactly as he always did.
We had a stillborn, who would have been our fifth child ...we named him Thomas Vann. It was sad he did not live, but somebody had to be named after him....and he said he was pleased ...and honored...And that was our intention.
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