Stolen Socks

If you sat at the kitchen table at the farm long enough, you would hear Gumpy complain that someone had stolen his socks. Since he was a creature of habit, if his socks were not in his shoes under the kitchen table, he would assume they were stolen. When he would bellyache about his socks long enough, Ema would usually exclaim something like, "Elbert! They are in your sock drawer where they belong!"

Before I became a double-digit midget (over 10 years old), I liked to point out absurdities pretty vociferously. I felt pretty important if I could make an adult stop to think through my logic. I felt even more important when they agreed. So, one night after Gumpy declared that someone broke in to the house to steal his dirty socks, I challenged him.

"You mean to tell me they walked past the TV, past the new VCR and past the new microwave just to steal your socks!?!" I exclaimed. Gumpy stared at me for a few seconds and burst out in laughter. Everyone else in the house did too. I figured out pretty quickly that everyone was laughing because I made the great sock burglar theory sound absolutely ridiculous.

The alleged burglar was always Ema. Gumpy habitually took his shoes and socks off at the dinner table, leaving them under the table in front of his spot. This irritated Ema, who likes some semblance of order to her chaos. So, every night she would move his shoes and socks to their bedroom closet.

I do not recall hearing my grandparents say that they loved each other, yet I know they loved each other. It was more in the actions they took toward each other. Even their bickering about socks had a loving tone.