I love Ida Buck dearly. So many of my childhood memories involve she and her family, who really became like my own family. Christmas Eve programs in the Buck basement, summer hours spent at the Laramie ball fields, singing around the piano, baptisms and baby blessings, Sunday nights when the adults would play cards and the kids would run around outside. On Halloween we would have grilled hamburgers with cheese that looked like jack o'lanterns! But of all the many memories I have and could fondly share of this special lady, on the occasion of her 60th birthday, I will share the following.
(This is about what she and Tom looked like at the time. Unimpressed Tom notwithstanding…)
It was probably a Sunday evening, in the late 1980's. I was maybe 9 or 10 years old. For some reason, no Buck children were there that night. My brother, sister and I had been sent to bed, and the adults were in the living room, still talking. Nothing more intriguing to my young ears than an adult conversation! My bedroom happened to border the living room, and I thought I was being sneaky. I cracked my door and stood, listening to their conversation. I quickly became bored and achy with my posture, and, in my childish mind, it was okay that eventually, legs and other parts of my body came into view.
Ida, who was in my eyeline, caught sight of me. I knew, for sure, that I had been found out. I was most likely not on the first or even second warning about being told to go to bed, and I knew that I would be in major trouble if my parents were alerted. Ida, being the angel she was, winked at me and looked away. I thanked her silently and re-thought my position. I got to be privy to the adult goings-on until she and Tom left.
Fast forward to 2005 or so in a cabin in Watertown, Canada. I was almost 30 years old and attending a wedding with my husband's family, and we were all having a grand old time being away together. The adults were up late, playing games and chatting, my young nieces and nephews had been sent to bed. Mid-laugh, I turned and caught sight of my wide-eyed nephew Brandon, peeking out from his bed in a dark bedroom, sequestered from the adult frivolity. My mind immediately flashed back to Ida in the 80's, who in a small moment, became both my savior and partner in crime. When his eyes inevitably found mine, I gave Brandon a smile, a little wink and silently thanked Ida again. I hope he enjoyed whatever conversation occurred that night.
Happy 60th birthday, Ida! Thank you for being you. I love you.
