“George and the Butter Churn”

     Would you put your head inside a crockery butter churn?  No?  I wouldn’t either but my brother did.  You’ve seen churns in museums no doubt and know what they look like.

     There was a small room off of the big kitchen at the farm house where I grew up in Southern Illinois.  George and I were playing there trying to conquer boredom one winter day.  The room was used as a summer kitchen where Mother had a kerosene stove to cook on when the weather got to hot to fire up the big kitchen range.  The churn was stored there except when it was used about once a week to churn the butter which we ate on our hot biscuits, corn bread or whole wheat bread one of which we had each morning for breakfast, much better than boring Wonder Bread!

     My back was turned to George when I heard an anguished howl; George had stuck his head in the churn and couldn’t get it out.  I yelled for Mom and got Grandma, too.

     When they saw George’s predicament, they couldn’t help laughing.  He was crying.  With a fiendish twinkle in her eyes, Mom turned to Grandma and said, “We may have to break the churn to get his head out!”  I’m sure she and Grandma both know that all they had to do was turn his head into the position it was in when he put it into churn in order to get it out.

     George, envisioning loud whacks from a hammer and how that would feel, cried louder.  After letting him suffer a little longer, Mom told me to hold the churn steady while she moved his head to the position it was in when he put it inside the churn.  Curiosity killed the cat but George was luckier.  We had a good laugh at his expense which he didn’t appreciate.

Dorothy McNeill

July, 2000