My front porch swing observations are many and varied – mostly sweet and nostalgic as the one I share with you today.

    On this certain afternoon I was perched there dangling my legs toward the blue painted wooden floor, couldn’t quiet reach it yet, but I could swing. Boy, could I swing. I had just gotten to top speed when I heard the telephone ring, again. The calls had been brisk during the last few days. Although, just a 7-year-old-kid, I knew something was up, something big. The ringer only made it to the second chime when Momma, out of breath, picked up the phone.

    You see Aunt Edna has a new f-o-y-e-r, whatever that is. No one wanted to ask. You know we’re not nosey types in my family, not too much anyway, and Aunt Edna is the grand lady of the family. I mean after all she is married to the Mayor, (Uncle Jim). Momma, Granny, and Aunt Elaine kept the phone hot as they all three speculated about the mysterious f-o-y-e-r.

    Momma had a few telephone conversing minutes in her daily schedule except when it was biscuit-making-time for my Daddy. That time came along real often: 6 AM, 11 AM and 5 PM EVERYDAY. Yes, my Daddy liked him some biscuits.

    That’s the main thing about the front porch swing. I could see into the kitchen, where most of the family action took place. I could see the telephone table in the front hallway, the front entrance door, sidewalk, and the street.  Not only could I see, but I could hear, too.  I mean nothing got by me.

    I guess I was sort of the lookout ‘cause when Daddy pulled in the drive for lunch and supper, I always yelled to the top of my lungs, “Daddy’s here.”

    Now my Daddy loved his biscuits, and he loved Momma and me, but he didn’t like to talk or visit. So when Momma made plans with Granny and Aunt Elaine to visit Aunt Edna on Sunday afternoon, we all knew Daddy would stay home to watch the ballgame on his brand new RCA. That’s okay ‘cause he didn’t even know about the f-o-y-e-r, not that he cared.

    Pastor Henderson’s Sunday sermon was probably a good one, if any in our group had paid attention.  Granny, Aunt Elaine, Momma, and I were, I admit, distracted. The word f-o-y-e-r rolled around in our heads. The thought came to me perhaps we should add Aunt Edna and Uncle Jim to the prayer list in case whatever it was turned out to be illegal. Not to mention that they were Methodist, too.

    Early that morning, Momma had fried the chicken for Sunday dinner and made a chocolate cake, Daddy’s second favorite thing, after the biscuits. Once we returned from church, she creamed the potatoes and made gravy. Granny decided to go home with us for lunch because it would save transport time, when driving to Aunt Edna’s.

    We arrived and walked briskly to the kitchen door. After all we were family and family always entered the back way. Momma explained years ago that it is a little uppity for family to knock on the front door. Aunt Edna greeted us with hugs and kissed me on the cheek.  

    Finally the house tour began. The last area to see was a short hallway from the front door to the living room. Aunt Edna concluded our tour with the f-o-y-e-r. She explained how she and Uncle Jim loved the f-o-y-e-r.

    Momma, Granny, and Aunt Elaine blinked their eyes and tried not to look shocked. Finally Granny summed it all up with an off-the-cuff remark, something about how much “she loved a foyer, too.” Momma and Aunt Elaine looked at her as if she had two heads.

    That’s when Aunt Edna looked out the window. “I just wish the Electrolux would arrive.”

    Electrolux! Here we go again.

    On the ride home, Granny finally asked. “What on earth is an Electrolux?”

    No, it was not CNN or even the Internet, but the view from my front porch swing was just fine.

    Anne McKee is a writer and

storyteller. See her website:

www.annemckee.net