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Eggs, Eggs, Eggs

September 27, 2011

(Story by Meta Lale as told to Erin Lale)

Our family moved from Bismarck to a farm in Washington near Fort Lewis. Dad got a job at the Nally's plant, so the bulk of the farm work fell to mom. We had a thousand chickens, some pigs, two cows, several goats, and 75 fruit trees. Many soldiers stayed at our place while mustering out. I remember mom cooking eggs, eggs, eggs, every which way: fried, scrambled, boiled. They didn't have fresh eggs and milk in the military, so the soldiers thought those things were a treat.

Mom cleaned the chicken house daily. When the book The Egg and I came out,  I overheard her say to Polly Imus, "I could have written that book, but I was too busy shoveling shit."

The Fireplace

September 27, 2011

(Story from Meta Lale as told to Erin Lale.)

Mom always told me, "If you want a helping hand, look at the end of your arm."

One of my earliest memories illustrates her belief in this principle. In Bismarck, North Dakota, mom told dad many times she wanted him to remove the fake fireplace in our living room. After he left to go on the road, she brought out a crowbar, wrenched the fireplace away, picked it up, and threw it way into the front yard, where it landed back side up. I asked her if I could use it for a stage, and she said, "You can tap dance on it for all I care." So Jeanie Imus and I tap danced our little feet off on it.

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