My Mom, (May God rest her soul) had one of the best ethereal attitudes ever; also, this did not go unnoticed
One of the problems of having an unusual historical background, as many military brats and/or (as in my case)”Space Kids” did, is the necessity for being discrete, which is learned from experience, as well as taught and repeatedly reminded by one’s parents to keep your little smart-assed mouth shut on many sensitive subjects; many having to do with my father’s work as a research scientist in the Air Force, not that this sort of thing was openly discussed in our home. But I do remember my Dad talking on the phone, using code words for certain aspects of his work , etc. that I or anyone else were not supposed to “get.” I got to where I did “get” them, but knew to ignore this and in general (no pun intended) feared repercussions from my parents enough, to say nothing of the powers that were, in those days, to obey this objective. I mean, how many times do you have to watch an Atlas Missile explode due to some predicted mistake in the trajectory, or whatever, with the pieces raining down like massive schrapnel, some times near enough over the beach where my brother and I played, to scare the merde out of two 9 and 11 year old kids, but to also and with out question, instill the absolute serious need for discipline and following orders?
Of course, for those who keep up with the Space Program (and believe me this is REAL…don’t be taken in by nay-Sayers or conspiracy-theory-types claiming the moon walk was at a TV studio. We were there to witness the sequential reality of this progression. Just because you are too young or don’t know anyone involved in the real deal when this occurred, don’t be fooled into that trap of the non-believer. It took wonderfully dedicated, hardworking, knowledgeable people working together, to make the improbable happen–and not only those directly involved, but with the cooperation of those good peoples’ families as well. We learned to act as a co-operative team in order to protect and participate as much as we could to protect my father’s career and national security, even us little “military brats.”
One aspect of all this was the constant security checks on various important players by the FBI, which was to be expected, especially during those cold war times of the 50’s and 60’s. For example, as my parents were determined to get my brother and me in the best possible public schools in the area where my father was stationed, we some times lived off base. It was not uncommon for our neighbors to be questioned as to both their and our activities by el Feds, and indeed this was some times quite an amusing activity for us. I am remembering my mother’s wonderfully authoritative attitude, and astonishing ridiculous outfit during one of these FBI visitations. She and I were home, doing house work (believe it or not sometimes I helped), and at that time she had a very chic “poodle cut” hair-do, that was quite difficult to maintain. As she was trying to protect her hair, she regularly did what she remembered seeing her parents’ maid do in similar situations: mainly; this involved wearing one’s shabbiest clothes and old underpants over the hair-do, to keep her hair out of her face, and protected from household chemicals. We were in the middle of some serious house cleaning, she in that outfit (complete with the underpants on the head- and this time rubber gloves) when the door bell rang. I am remembering this being mid-morning, and her being highly annoyed at this intrusion into her time.
So she got off her knees and straightened her posture and puts on her typical superior, yet calm facial expression only used for those times when she was really pissed off at being interrupted, or totally annoyed by some idiocy impeding her progress, and went to answer the door, as the caller was persistent in ringing the door bell multiple times. She opened the door to an obvious FBI agent. Said FBI agent having not expected such a reception from the lady of the house, stood silent with his mouth partially open, speechless at this unexpected continence before him. Instantly realizing the situation, my mother very cordially asks, in a very upper classed manner in spite of her ‘get-up’, under pants and all, ” Good Morning, how can I help you?” After a few empty measures the agent, remembered his purpose and continued with his interview with my mother as she gave very dignified answers to his inquiry. This lasted a few minutes after which, Mom shut the door and gave me a look meaning, ” how dare he interrupt me”(this look including the raising of one eye brow and out take of breath in a huff) and she went back to work. I remember being unable to control my laughter, which she joined in on only having broken character then, when I pointed to her unique headgear. We actually ended up howling with laughter on the newly clean floor.
I always wondered what that FBI agent wrote about us in that interview. And this story continues to this day, some 50 years later, to be one of my favorite memories of my Mother.
Maybe that’s how the “X-files” got started?
Keep smiling, as ever,
Kay Buena