Box Socials

And Curly looked close at Alvin Olaf, toddling across the floor, wearing only a diaper and a smile, and said he had to agree, ‘That boy is built like the box on Daddy’s dump truck.’ A dump truck that was soon to become Curly’s, because only a few months later, Black Darren McClintock pushed back from the table after a feed of partridge parts and fried turnips, unbuckled his belt and passed away.

The McClintocks held a family meeting, where it was decided that since Curly was the only one married, and since his father-in-law, Banker Gordonjensen, knew how to handle money, even if he didn’t have any anymore, that Curly should inherit the dump truck and the twice-weekly run to Edmonton to take the cream cans full of cream to the dairies, and bring back supplies from the grocery wholesalers to the towns in the Six Towns area.

‘Hiya, Truckbox,’ Curly McClintock and his brother said several times to the baby, who grinned back like he understood, as he walked face-first into a wall.

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