Listening to the radio

Wilbert stood in the corner behind the maroon-leathered high back chair. Grandfather Pricklebush sat in it – a much younger version of the bald, brown-spotted grouchy old fart Wilbert had known who’d said one too many “In my day, we didn’t …” and got knocked over the head by crazy Uncle Jeremy with a frying pan. After that, crazy Uncle Jeremy went to the Idaho state home. Grandfather went six feet under.

They were listening to the radio that Sunday evening. Grandfather had a full head of hair, wore a white shirt and red tie. Sunday evening at home. Aunt Prudence played on the floor with her dolls. Crazy Uncle Jeremy played with his Lincoln Logs, taking ten minutes to put up some building and then knocking it right down. And Mama – his very own darling Jenny – Mama played with her Shirley Temple doll. She had long, straight blonde hair with a pink braid that matched her chubby cheeks.

Ah, Mama … Wilbert wanted to reach out to her, but the society had only approved this journey in the time machine if he remained invisible to the group. But Mama, he wanted to say – don’t get into the Cadillac that fateful evening with Daddy. Don’t get into the car for the evening journey down the Pacific Coast Highway …

“We interrupt this program with a special bulletin,” the radio announced. “The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor –“

Grandfather put down his pipe. Crazy Uncle Jeremy stretched his eyebrows up, excited like a dog with a bone. Aunt Prudence patted her cheeks, looking in the mirror – and Mama kept to Shirley Temple. Grandfather froze and looked over at the sofa at Grandmother, knitting a winter sweater.

“I shall have to serve,” Grandfather said.

“Nonsense, Howard,” Grandmother said. “You’re too old. You’ll be thirty-seven in January.”