Mom was wonderful at telling stories and jokes.
Over and over again we asked to hear the “song/chant” about a young man talking his father into buying a car:
Tobe, Tato, zhoritisye, sye-ati, orati.
Mi-nye, Tatoo, zhoritisye yak to garoo mati.
Ah vi, Tatoo, coo-peet mi-nyee garoo.
Ah ya boodoo z Mi-low na piragee
Ah vi z Mamoo zadoo.
Ah ya boodoo steermoovati,
Ah Mila troo-beeti.
Oozhiw garoo na dorohoo.
Ya ooshikh minaiyoo.
Vay-yeekho na corner;
Gara syi pervernoola;
Polomiw si nohih.
Kazhi Tato garoo prodavati;
Ah ya garoo po feex-soo-yoo
Shob dobri robila.
Ah ya nohoo zeebyoo chvikom
Tai booda kho-di-la.
Summer, 1965: Dad let me get behind the steering wheel of the car in the top picture. Being the most silent man in the world, he gave me almost no directions at all -- just sat there, patiently. When I got going too fast and hit three deep ruts together on a gravel road, Dad never said a word. He just came around, drove the car out of the ditch, and let me take over again.