BUSTED EGGS

1942

This is a story that I’m ashamed of, but I’ll tell it anyway because it’s part of the memories and it had a happy ending.

Shortly after our marriage, we moved into a little 2 bedroom, sort of shack like, house which we rented for 15 dollars a month. It was on about 2 acres of wooded land at the end of a road alongside a wash, which sometimes had running water in it. Perfect for Phyllis and me. I worked at Lockheed Aircraft in Burbank, and had to be at work at 7 am, so it meant an early start.

Phyllis and I envisioned ourselves as ranchers, and we had Chickens, rabbits, ducks, a goat and a horse. All this on my $300 a month salary. I would take some of the eggs to work and sell them to the guys.

This particular morning Phyllis had gotten up early, gathered the eggs, candled them, put them in a box and tied a string around the box to hold it closed.

For some unknown reason, I complained about something, which started, what we referred to as, a fight. She gave me a sharp reply. I thought, “I’ll show her.” And I threw the eggs (which she had gathered, candled, and boxed) on the bathroom floor.

The eggs had no sooner left my hand when I realized what an incredibly stupid thing I had done, and I was apologizing by the time they hit the floor.

She, being Phyllis, forgave me. The good thing that came out of it was, I learned a lesson about being a husband and about handling quarrels. The lesson about quarrel is: try to avoid them. If that doesn’t work, minimize them, don’t do or say anything that you will have to apologize for. (You’ll feel stupid). Remember that you will want to make up and be lovers again. Make it easy on yourself.

Phyllis didn’t hold this incident against me. She would tell it as a funny story, decades later.