The Red Blanket

While growing up as a child we lived on 10 acres with a farmhouse that was painted barn red. My fondest memories are of the huge weeping willow tree near the water tank. Every year, just like clockwork, we would see many black hairy caterpillars cocoon and become butterflies. It was a special time of year. After taking our evening bath, me and my sisters would run over to the window and look outside to see how many cocoons were hanging from the willow tree.

In the morning, we would check on the cocoons before we headed off to school to make sure no spiders or insects were bothering the cocoons because we wanted to protect them.

Our closest neighbor Evelyn had a mission fig tree we sat under. She allowed us to pick figs from her tree and haul them to the local grocery store in our red wagon. The manager at the local grocery store had gone to school with my mom and of course gave us a few dollars for our haul. We would buy soda and candy from his store. 

We also had a water tank building that had an “only girls sign” on the entrance of the door. We met occasionally for meetings in this shed but my dad used it mostly to make cheese that smelled like feet. They were large rounds on shelves. Boy, did it smell.

In autumn, we would go outside and crawl around in the wild oats that grew in the field. We would crawl until we were tired then take a nap in the field with our red blanket. 

We had train tracks near the farm. A train came by two times a day hauling miscellaneous items. We would try to guess what the train was carrying or if hobos would jump off and walk down the train tracks into town.

 We had cows, pigs, chickens, ducks and roosters on the farm. My mom loved dogs, so we had many dogs that guarded our property plus an indoor dog, Sparky the wiener dog. My dad built our swing set by welding pipes together and cutting tires to make the seats. We would play on the swing set until dusk.

One evening while playing outside my mother called us in for dinner. My sisters and I ran into the house at the same time and tried to fit through the doorway all at one time. Of course, my little sister hit the ground and my mom came over and was furious. She yelled at us then headed into the kitchen while we washed our hands. We helped set the table and sat for dinner. Occasionally, my mother spoke Spanish to my dad at the table. They had different dialects of Spanish, so sometimes it was difficult for my mom to understand my dad’s Spanish or vice versa. After dinner we would sit and watch a little TV. We cuddled close to my mother and she would cover us with the red blanket. 

 One night we heard a knock at the door. We all ran to the windows to see who it was. My dad got angry and we all ran back to the kitchen and sat down. My dad opened the door and it was a hobo. We were able to see the thin man standing in the doorway. He had blue eyes and his hair was messy. His clothes were too big for him. He was soft spoken and said, “I just got off the boxcar and I am hungry. Do you have any food to spare?” My mother jumped up and grabbed a flour sack and started to fill it with bread, meat, cheese and a couple of cans of soda and a thermos of water. She also ran into the living room and grabbed the red blanket hanging over the chair. My dad was less compassionate than my mom. My mom pulled the door open and handed the young man the flour sack and we heard with his soft voice “thank you ma am.” My mom said, “God bless you son” and watched him walk off into the dark. My mother came back to the table and asked us to stop eating. My mother said, “We are lucky to have food on the table and clothes on our back. If we have extra, we must give and have compassion for one another.” After dinner, my sisters and I washed the dishes and we talked about the hobo from the boxcar that came to the door. We wondered who he was. Why was he traveling alone? Where are his mom and dad? Where would he sleep for the night? We all felt a sense of sadness for him.  

The following morning, we woke up, and it was time to go to school. We were in elementary school and my mom drove us to school. We had to drive past the railroad tracks to get to school. Traffic was backed up and at a standstill. We were goofing around in the back seat when my mother asked us to stay in the car and wait for her. We said “ok.” She jumped out of the car and went over to talk with our neighbor. My mother came back to the car and asked us to fasten our seat belts. She looked like she had seen a ghost and I thought I saw some tears rolling down her eyes. As the traffic started to move, we saw the fire department, police and ambulance near the railroad tracks and saw the red blanket and flour sack with food my mother had given to the boxcar hobo. We were all quiet while my mother drove us to school. We arrived at school and gave my mom a kiss as we jumped out of the car.   My sister said she thought our hobo was hit by the train. My mother rushed us along and said we would be late for school. We had to run to our home room class so we would not be late. 

That afternoon, my mom came to pick us up at school. We all got into the car, quietly. We headed home but that day my mom pulled the car over and said she had sad news. She said, the hobo from the boxcar was hit by a train early morning and died. We cried as my mother drove us home from school. That night we all helped set the table, we sat quietly and ate dinner. While washing the dishes, my sister turned to me and said “family is so important, I promise to be your best friend. We all hugged each other and finished the dishes and off to bed we went.  

As we grew older, we have never forgotten the boxcar hobo. He will always have a special memory in our hearts.