Diana Cannon-Ragsdale - Loose Cannons: A Memoir of Mania and Mayhem in a Mormon Family

Painted by Diana 2018

M y baby sister Messer and I sat on the kitchen floor playing near my brother Tips feet as he leaned over the stove cooking our family dinner, not a parent in sight. Messer (our nickname for Melissa) was only wearing her underwear as she sang to her pink bunny. With one eye on her, I picked at the peeling, gray linoleum floor, getting hungrier by the minute.

Tip was so small that he had to stand on his tippy toes to stir his pot of boiling water.

Even though he was 10 and older than me, at six I was almost as tall as him. Tip pulled a spaghetti noodle out of the water and threw it onto the wall in front of him so it stuck. We all watched it slither down until it was close enough for him to grab again. Right before it came completely unstuck, he popped it in his mouth and kissed his fingers like a chef.

Perfection! he announced with a grin, flicking off the burner and turning to the sauce. Tuesdays were Tips night to cook, which meant we could all count on his favorite dish, overcooked spaghetti drenched in canned meat sauce.

My eight-year-old sister Beth, dressed in a faded floral sun-suit, hustled into the kitchen to check on all the noise we were making, while her twin Anna kept playing outside. As Tip rinsed the noodles, she dragged our wobbly yellow metal stool across the floor, clattering the whole way. Nothing glided in our house.

Beth climbed over the stove and grabbed the spoon from Tip, flipping her long brown hair out of her eyes. From below, I saw her belly nearly touch the flame as she stirred the sauce.

Get away from that, Tip yelled, his face red with anger. At three years old, Messer was small and scrawny, so she dove into my lap like a scared baby bird surrounded by hungry cats. We were the only two oddballs with blonde hair in the whole family, so we were two of a kind. I licked my thumb and wiped the crusted milk from Messers upper lip as she tucked my ratty hair behind my ear. We looked at each other instead of watching the argument above us.

You dont know how to do it right! Tip snarled at Beth. Only I know how to cook spaghetti. He snatched the spoon out of her clenched hand and puffed his chest up.

Youre a brat, Beth said.

Tip raised the spoon above his head like he was going to hit her so Beth jumped off the chair, startling Messer and me as she thudded on the floor.

Go back outside! Tip barked. We were being so loud that Anna finally snuck into the kitchen as well. She was eight years old and a dedicated thumb sucker like Messer, only she was a lot more skittish. Still, she was concerned for her twin sister after hearing Tips yellingshe was always worried about Beth.

Though not identical, they almost always wore matching clothes. They had even invented their own secret language, which only they understood. Anna twirled her curly red hair and watched Tip shout as her large brown eyes filled with tears.

Boo! Tip hissed at her as she stumbled backward. Anna was the biggest fraidy cat of all of us, and Tip liked to remind her. Anna muttered a few secret words to Beth, who nodded.

Finally, our oldest brother Linc, cool and cocky at 12 years old, strutted in sporting a stained white T-shirt that was way too small and cutoff jeans. He was whistling his favorite song by Hermans Hermits, Im Henry VIII, I Am. When Tip joined in, Linc swatted him on the back of the head.

I own that song. And youre ruining it, Linc said, pointing his finger menacingly in Tips face and then grabbing him by the shoulders. Dont ever sing it again.

Linc turned his attention to the rest of us. Nobody sings that song but me, you hear?

I started humming Lincs tune under my breath so the others would barely hear it, but Linc glared at me until I stopped. Then he poked his finger into Tips chest to drive his point home.

Keep your hands off me, Tip shot back at him, swatting his finger away. Youre not the boss.

Lincs green eyes narrowed as if he was a snake preparing to strike. My brothers locked eyes like they were about to start punching each other like they always did before Beth jumped in.

Be quiet or youre gonna wake Mom up, she warned.

Anna took the opportunity to slide behind Beth, trying to disappear. She was always attempting to be invisible, which was a good skill to have in our house.

Linc shoved Tip, knocking him into the stove and almost spilling the hot spaghetti sauce.

Youre gonna ruin dinner! Tip shouted. Get out of my kitchen! Tip sure had a mean temper, especially when it came to his spaghetti.