SNIPPETS - Flying Clothes -A Moment in Time

 In 1964 when I was 4 years old my dad went to work at a copper mine in Butte Montana. He took the bus, and we all stood and waved goodbye to him. At the time he didn't have a place to stay except in the man camp, but he finally found an apartment in some row housing for the mine. A month later he came home and packed up our 1957 Chevy Nomad, with five kids, my mom and all of our belongings and headed through the Rocky Mountain switchbacks with no brakes and a jar full of pennies. My littlest brother slept in a cradle in the back.

I remember we lived on the bottom floor of the apartment building. And I remember that my little brother slept in in a dresser drawer. I also remember that my mom and dad friended a couple and their children that lived in the apartment above us. This couple argued. We could hear them almost every night. I don't think they beat each other or their kids. They just yelled, mostly when he didn't come home right after work. That is when the spectacle began.

 We kids couldn't wait to watch the show. We knew it had started when the husband's shoes fell on the ground in front of our apartment window. Then every single article of his clothing floated down as the wife threw them out the window. It usually happened once a week.  Mom and Dad would laugh and say, "Guess So and So stayed out too long."

 Hours later, when he did get home there was a lot of yelling followed by silence. About fifteen minutes later the kids would come down and collect the shoes and clothes in a basket and take them upstairs again.

We eventually left the town of Butte when the miners went on strike and Mom told Dad it was time to pack up and leave. It wasn't a very safe job for my dad either. A few miners had been blown up in the tunnels and the working conditions were pretty bad. So once again we packed everything in the 1957 Chevy Nomad and made our trek through the switchbacks, no brakes and all. That was the last time my dad ever went underground. He went back to farming and never looked back. As far as the family of flying clothes we never heard from them again.

 

Berkeley Pit Butte Montana