Make Believe Dreams
The mornings were dark in Downey, Idaho. Especially at 4:00 a.m. when
our hired hand, Dale, was out milking the cows. Yet, I loved those wee
morning hours, lying in my bed and listening. Listening to the pulsating
of the milking machines as they milked the cows, listening to the sounds
of morning…the early birds, the breeze. But most of all, listening
to Dale.
Dale was sixteen years old…a real man by my seven-year-old standards…and
handsome as anyone I had ever known since Huckleberry Finn. And he was
so kind to me. I remember lying on the front room floor with him, eating
cheese sandwiches and watching T.V. That man knew how to treat a woman,
that’s for certain.
And Dale could sing! He had a singing voice akin to Howard Keel’s
and Gordon MacRae’s! Every morning, as he was bringing in the cows
to milk and hooking them up to the milking machines…he would sing!
Oh, and the songs he sang were beautiful…“Make Believe”
from the musical Showboat, was my very favorite! I would lie in my little
bed in our farm house in Downey, the one with the crooked outhouse out
back, and listen to Dale singing, “Make Believe.” Oh, it was
magical in those sweet morning hours when my dreams were still lingering.
Dale’s voice would drift softly to me, echoing on the breeze so
fragrant with the scents of farm life. And I would listen and dream
and smile and sigh, longing for the next time that Dale and I would
share cheese sandwiches in the front room.
