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Sardine.  One would not think that this word would be used to convey pleasure.  Whether it was pleasant or unpleasant.  To me it would naturally convey a picture of a small fish packed in a can that smells horrendous or a large school of sardines swimming in the water.  Well,  today I am going to talk about words and how they were used in my world as a youth.  Suffice it to say I will mainly focus on the words of my Father.  I wish that I could say that I heard these words used on for other people but alas I am sad and happy to say that it was me that I really believe was the impetus in his choice of words.  Mostly I say this because of a comment made by a sibling some years back.  It has to do with a conversation about who in the family seemed to get the most spankings.  Of course it was me.  the part that I want to focus on was when I said that I seem to remember getting the most spankings of all the brothers and sisters.  My sibling replied without any rancour, “And….Why do you think that is, Kirk?”  As a realist, I deduced from this that I seemed to be a bit more bent on not changing so I needed to be coaxed more than most. 

 There are other words that hit the play list often in terms of my life.  Sardine just was the tip of the iceberg.  Another term that I heard often was, “I never seen the beat.”   Some times that was a statement.  Sometimes it was spoken plaintively. And sometimes it was an exclamation.  All said in a series of three.   Just imagine a kid that really does not understand what is going on and is really just having some fun but for some inexplicable reason whatever I was doing seem to break as I was doing it.  Now also picture my Father viewing this as he approaches me.  I know he was shaking his head the moment that he saw me.  Why else would he walk towards me.  To tell me,  that he never saw the beat?  The first time it was said he is almost smiling because some where in his head it seems funny.  The problem continues to grow when I fail to stop when he approaches me.  Thus changing the tone of his voice to stern.  A sure sign that anger was soon forthcoming.  The third time it is said, “I never seen the beat!!!” is said with anger while he is grabbing me by the arm to get my attention.  My Father said, “What were you thinking?”   It does not matter what I was doing it was something that did not need to be done.  I answered. “I dunno.”  

Another of his favorite words was pip.  Not my everyday word for sure but I remember him using it often and even more surprising is the fact that I can remember a person named Shorty who was an order cattle buyer that my Father used when he purchased feeder cattle for his feed lot that my Father described  as a real pip.  How may pips have you known in your life?  In my life’s definition book,  which I see clearly in my mind’s eye, there is always a picture of Shorty.  In this version pip it is a good thing.  Other times pip would be used as an expletive.  Not a good thing.  It is not that my Father did not use words to express his feelings.  He was a very good communicator.  What I find interesting is the use of certain words. 

When I was six years old we had a gentlemen that had retired from farming but still hired out as day labor with my Father.  His name was Pete and he always called me Cork.  I had heard of a corker from my Dad but I had never been called a corker.  But on this day going down memory lane I remember now why Pete called me Cork.  It is because the day that he arrived I over heard my Father introduce everyone to Pete.  Pete asked my Father who the little boy was on the lawn near the cob house next to the shop where everyone had gathered?   My Father simply stated the I was his youngest son and that I was a real corker.  So from that day on Pete called me, the little boy on the lawn near the cob house next to the shop where everyone gathered, Cork.  All because my Father had given me the dubious title of a real “corker.”  Funny how the picture of Shorty as a pip and the picture of what a corker looks like in my mind’s eye differ in clarity.  Ha! IT is my story and I am stickin to it.

My Mother was very proud of the fact that her husband loved her and their children very much.  She also said that she  had never seen my Father drunk.  Although it one would be hard pressed to say that after a trip to Ashton Steak house where Floyd and Mabel Halstensen would often travel together to have a dinner out.  While there I can remember both,  Floyd and my Father,  slamming down some small whiskey sours as fast as the bartender ould make them.  To a limit of three before dinner and one after dinner drink.  Watching my Father enjoy these drinks one would never guess that he never got drunk.  He simply enjoyed it.  He often told me that if liking to drink means to get drunk than he would be drunk all the time.  Yet because he liked it he never abused alcohol.  Thus my Mother could always be proud.  

She also was proud of the fact that my Father did not use curse or swear words.  But if you had heard the tone of the words Sardine, Pip, and corker one would readily admit that they were real rip snortin words that have every bit as much bite as the worst swear words ever to have been heard.  So maybe my Father did not swear but……..He never saw the beat… either!!!  LOL!