The Milking Stool
From Stuff with Stories


Wynn, pollywog #5 as he is known in some circles, is a funny little boy with ostrich hair. He is not yet two years old, and a little on the short side, much like his grandmother. Wynn is a master at problem solving—door knobs and drawers that are just out of his reach, as well as sofas and chairs that are not easy to climb—nothing is too difficult for a little boy whose most prized possession is a milking stool.

I don’t know where the milking stool came from, but I do know that it never sat under a cow. It appeared at Mother’s house around 40 years ago, where it sat quietly in the corner by the stereo. It didn’t fit into any décor that she might have thought she had going on. Precious little thought was given over to interior decorating, because the home of these mom-and-pop furniture and appliance dealers was filled with stuff that didn’t move quickly off the floor.

Most everything else we had came from either the GE wishbook or was acquired with S & H Green Stamps. One year my brother, Ted, and I were surprised with brand new bicycles in the middle of the summer. Apparently, the GE points had to be used quickly, or we would have gotten another refrigerator box instead. No doubt the milking stool was obtained in much the same way, because I seriously doubt that Mother went to a real store to buy it.

The milking stool eventually found its way to Rachel’s house. My daughter can’t abide clutter; so why she kept Mother’s milking stool is a mystery. Although, I guess she wanted it for the same reason I wanted an old parking meter from downtown Huntsville. Some desires remain clouded between old memories and grief for what might have been.

I often imagine Mother watching Wynn drag around that milking stool. He babbles loudly, shakes his blonde head that really does resemble an ostrich, and laughs and laughs at the world as he watches from high atop his milking stool.