Why Did You Run?

[Diana Morkassel]

    What makes a person fight or flee?  Fear, anger?  I have never been cornered nor felt the urge to fight, but I have fled in fear.

Let me take you back to my earliest memory of fear.  Mom and Dad were out for the evening, and Connie, the oldest, was baby sitting us.  She liked to tell us ghost stories, in low voice, she began telling of someone stealing some meat.  Fearing retribution, he fled, a low, menacing voice following him, "Giiive me back my Meeeeeat."  He ran faster, the words following, repeating, becoming more persistent and louder, the vowels drawn out, "Giiiive me Baaack my Meeeeat."  We kids are standing around her, Our eyes getting larger, mesmerized by the words, wondering, will the thief get away?  Suddenly her arms thrust out and grab me, as she yells, 'Gotcha'.

In Northern Minnesota in the 40's and 50's, the nights were dark.  No street lights on the farm.  The yard light only on when you needed to go out.  No moon, the nights are very dark.  Tucked into bed, I lie wide awake staring into the shadows, which seem to move and shift, but never quite getting to me.   Tuck the covers in tight around me, don't let an arm or leg hang over the side of the bed.  Surely something will get me from under the bed.

I liked to follow my older siblings and watch what they were doing.  Chuck and Lewis were milking cows.  The barn held 8 or 10 cows and a couple calves, the bull staying outside in the summer.  I watched as they set the milk stool down and crouched under the cow's udder and milked her out, occasionally squirting a stream of hot milk into his own mouth or to the cat on the concrete walkway; the cat greedily, noisily lapping the stiff stream as it splattered all over it's face, then sitting down and washing it's face with a bent paw.   The bull bellered behind me from the open door.  I bolted for the house.  Lewis later told me, laughingly, "The barn door and house door went bang, bang," as he clapped his hands together twice.

Dad told us of a time he was going somewhere in the dark.  It was a dark moonless night, and in fear of the unknown, he was walking very fast to get there as quickly as possible.  He ran smack into something big and furry, he retreated as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.  He supposed the bear also went the opposite direction, as frightened as he was, as it never caught him.

Our parents often told of when they first settled on the farm, they heard wolves howling out behind the barn.  I didn't like going out in the dark.

Our parents took us to a neighborhood meeting of the Triangle Farmer's Union.  The men were visiting while the ladies prepared lunch.  Elmer said, "we have a Mountain Lion around here, I heard it scream like a woman."  "Yep," said Phil, "That's what they sound like, just like a woman screaming"  

Next morning Dee and I had to milk the cows before school.  (Rick had left home to join the navy.)  We had a new barn with electric milking machines, so it was kind of an adventure for us to learn to do it ourselves, without our big brothers.  It was early morning, and the sky was just beginning to lighten.  We passed the chicken coop where the yard light barely reached.  Turning down the lane it became darker between the tall trees.  Hoping the cows aren't too far away. Then I heard it.  I didn't stop to think it through.  I wasn't sure what a woman's scream sounded like, but my feet were pounding the turf in the opposite direction.  I found myself next to the clump of little Oak trees right by the house, dry heaves, gasping for breath, and Dee right beside me, asking in a small voice, "Why did you run?"