O is for Obnoxious

As a participant in the A to Z Blogging Challenge, I will be making my way through the alphabet all month.

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I am not really sure that I am obnoxious. I am definitely the loudest. I have something rattling around in my brain that tells me if I am in the room, I must be completely sure that everyone else in the room is aware that I am there. It can't be helped. I must be noticed. I enjoy it, but it's not always a good thing.

This trait is at its worst on the occasions that I am in the same room as my brothers Kyle and Trevor. Solely because they have the same affliction trait. If we are in the same room, it unconsciously becomes a competition to see who is being given the most attention. Sometimes one of them wins and sometimes I do, but I try not to let it be them very often.

Winning the attention of the room is done using several strategies. Sometimes, it just involves the lazy tactic of being extremely loud. This is found to be annoying by the other people in the room very quickly. The next tactic is to be the strangest in the room or the person who says the most ridiculous things. This is typically found to be more entertaining for a while.

PERSON TRYING TO CONVERSE: Beautiful day, isn't it?

ME: It is. It's said that the sky looked exactly like this on the day of the Pearl Harbor attack. If you believe that actually happened.

Kyle tends to be more physical and will climb up in the rafters to look at a spider while I try to dazzle the crowd with wit. Trevor regales the crowd with amazing stories. We are all masters at sarcasm.

Another tactic is to just be shocking. Running naked into a room to tackle someone deeply immersed into a serious conversation will guarantee that you will be remembered long after the party has come to a close.

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We are available for parties.

"H" is for Hornet

Growing up, my dad had always made it clear to my brothers and me that he would never buy us a car. If we wanted a car, we could work for it. However, once we actually turned 16 and it was time to get a job, there was one small problem. We lived 20 miles out of town. Unless we wanted to work for the crazy farmer down the road who threw rocks when he got mad (which was often), or go into town where the work was.

My mother had driven an '84 Mercury Lynx for the last few years and it was passed down to me. My mother got a new car and I got to drive the Lynx/Studmobile. I drove this car until I raced a Trans Am home after work one night. At about 75 MPH the car shook so bad, I didn't know if I would be able to keep it on the road. I lost the race, obviously, and it blew up the next day when my mother was driving it.

I had several cars over the next few years. Some were fast, some were not. Some looked great, others were falling apart. Luckily, I've have never been too concerned about appearance and was just happy to always have something to get me around. It was this lack of shame that brought me to the car this post is all about.

I can't believe I found this picture on Google. It is
almost identical to ours. Even the wood paneling.

When my youngest brother Trevor turned 16, he was presented with a 1974 AMC Hornet wagon that dad had purchased for $50 to obtain a part for another car. He had never intended for the car to be driven, but that was the extra we had when Trevor became licensed. Kyle and myself had always driven the cars that had graciously been given to us regardless of their sex appeal condition. Kyle had even used the car given to him to make extra money to buy an AMC Javelin. Trevor, however, looked this car over and said, "I am NOT driving that."

Dad informed him that he wasn't getting anything else. The front end may be a little damaged and one of the headlights was hanging down attached only by the wires, but if he wanted something better, he would have to take care of it himself. This was his car until then.

Trevor did not reconsider and never drove that car. He found other ways to get around.

Kyle had just started at a technical school in Chicago and, after a few minor fender benders, had some serious concerns about the safety of the Javelin he had worked so hard for. When he found out there was an extra car no one cared about just sitting at our house, he switched until he graduated. When he came back home, the car was then passed to me.

By that time, the car had been in a few more big city incidents. The bumper was loose on one side and the headlight was still swinging by the wires. I discovered that on rainy days my feet would get wet due to the holes rusted through the floor board. One of the doors wouldn't open and sometimes the headlights would just go out. Shortly after getting it, I had to change out the radiator, but the new one was a few inches taller so the hood wouldn't shut. I had to use chicken wire to keep it down.

Despite all the things wrong with the car, it ran great. Especially since Dad had only paid $50 for it to get a few parts for another car. It had its little quirks. If I suddenly let off the gas, it gave off a huge backfire that sounded like a small cannon. If I did this at night, it lit up everything within 15 feet of the car for a short moment. The exhaust had fallen off soon after I got it, so it was a very loud car. This is also the same car that I used to run my brother Trevor down in the school parking lot which resulted in my windshield being shattered.

I drove that car until I got married and parked it when I got my next one. It sat for a few years until I left for college and gave it to a family in our church. We got it going again and they drove it for a few more years. It got a lot of mileage for 50 bucks.

I actually miss that car.

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,891 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day except Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

"B" is for Bird

About 2 years ago, when my pet tarantula died I wrote about some of the more unusual pets we have had…skunks, foxes, raccoons, salamanders and more. We almost had a flying squirrel when I was in junior high, but the owner backed out of giving it to us. I still have a python named Dr. Finklerstein and one day hope to have a monkey, although I haven't decided what kind yet. I don't think the poo-flinging kind would work well for me. Which ones fling poo?

Ideally, I would like a miniature buffalo, although I don't imagine that an animal with hooves would be very forgiving with my furniture. Maybe an elephant the size of a dachshund would be better, but not long like a dachshund. That would look ridiculous.

If hippos were the size of guinea pigs, I would have a whole flock of them. Flock? School? What do you call a group of miniature hippos?
— Brett Minor (@brettminor) March 4, 2013

We did have one hoofed animal for a pet. My brother Trevor came up on an object in the road one day that was moving. When he got out to investigate, he discovered that it was a baby deer. It appeared to still be wet from being born, but the mother could not be seen. Trevor picked up this slimy creature, put it in the back of his El Camino and drove home.

We put it in the barn and decided to take care of him. We cleaned him up, watched him stand for the first time, and started bottle feeding him. After much deliberation, we decided to name him 'Bird' after the scene in Bambi when he speaks his first word.

Our BIRD never started talking, but he was very entertaining for several months. It wasn't long before we started letting him out of the barn. He would frolic around the yard playing with dogs. They all got along great. At night, we would put him back in the barn to keep him from wandering off and keep him safe.

During the day, he would hang out at the front door just like other pets hoping to be fed. We had to be careful around him when he got playful. His hooves were sharp and we got busted in the face occasionally when he would jump up. While smashing other deer in the face may be considered endearing to deer, it is not a very appealing quality for people. We soon learned the dogs didn't care for it either.

When the dogs and deer were all playing in the yard, jumping around, and enjoying each others' company, eventually Bird would rear up high on his back legs and butt his rock hard head into one of the dog's heads. The dog would yelp and skulk off to a hiding spot to nurse his headache. After getting popped a few times, the dogs lost all interest in playing with Bird.

With time, we quit putting him in the barn at night and for weeks it was just like he was one of the dogs. With time, he got to where he would wander off, but he always returned at meal time. As he got bigger, he would sometimes disappear for days at a time and for the first time was a bit timid around us. He wouldn't always let us approach. We saw him less and less as time went on.

Sometimes we would see him in a farmer's field grazing with the cows, but he never came by the house any more. The following November, my uncle was out deer hunting and thought it was odd when he kept creeping up on a deer that didn't run off even when it noticed him. He then realized that it was probably Bird and we would never forgive him if he shot it, so he left him alone and looked for another.

A few months later, we heard a story that one of our neighbor's told at the local bar. He had been in the garage behind his house changing his oil when he noticed a buck standing in his back yard. He slowly moved to the wall to grab his bow, aimed and shot. The arrow missed and went over the deer's head. The deer's head shot up and looked directly at him. The man froze wondering if he would get the opportunity to get another shot when the deer started walking toward him.

Shocked at what was happening, he didn't draw another arrow. The deer walked right up to him and nuzzled his hand. After about 30 seconds, it turned around and hopped the fence in his back yard.

When he finished his story, the other bar patrons laughed at him and asked if he had been drinking that night. No one believed his story, but we had a feeling it was true.

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,968 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day except Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

Real Life Angry Birds

My brother Trevor is a great story teller. Not only does he always have a story to tell, but he tells it really well. At every family gathering, he will share with us one of his latest adventures. I've shared one of his stories before. Click the link to read about the time one of his buddies got stabbed in a bar. I know it doesn't sound like it, but it's a very funny story.

With Friends Like These...

This is one of Trevor's stories. Just like the one in the bar, I was not present for the events. I only got to hear about them after the fact. I will do my best to recall the story as I heard it.

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A few years ago, an acquaintance of Trevor's invited him and some of his buddies to a Sunday afternoon barbecue. While they were trying to decide if they had anything better going on that day, the host drops another detail about the party.  

"We will be having ostrich!"

"An ostrich barbecue? Count us in!"

It's not every day you get to eat ostrich and normally, if you do get the opportunity, it is just a taste. This is one of those opportunities you don't want to pass up. The chance to go to an ostrich barbecue doesn't come along very often.

The following weekend, Trevor and his buddies left early to make sure they could find the place since they had never been there before. They arrived about an hour early and the host was happy to see them. He said he needed help getting ready and he didn't have the ostrich yet. They all piled in the back of his truck and took off.

The host drove them to a barn in the middle of nowhere. Trevor asked, "What are we doing here?" He was told, "This is where the ostrich is." Trevor then realized that the meal for the day was still alive. This day just kept getting more interesting.

They opened up a gate to the pasture and drove the truck in. After driving around several acres, they finally saw the large bird off in the distance. Their host handed a .22 rifle to the guys in back of the truck and told them to shoot it when they drove close enough. He also told them that it had to be shot in the head. A body shot would not kill it. One of the guys happily grabbed the rifle to be the one to get the shot, but soon realized this was not an easy feat.

As the truck got closer, the ostrich ran off and the driver accelerated. The truck gave chase as the driver yelled for him to shoot as he pulled up along side the ostrich. Unfortunately, the ostrich didn't allow for that. As the truck would catch up and start to pull to one side, the ostrich would turn away from it as the driver screamed, "SHOOT!"

The shooter was having some problems. Ostriches can run up to about 40 MPH. They were standing in the back of a fast-moving truck driving on unpaved ground, chasing a bird that is darting back and forth, while having to aim at a part of it's body that isn't much bigger than a tennis ball. The rifle got passed around as they all took their shots.

Eventually, one of them got lucky and the bird went down. The driver stopped quickly, jumped out and cut off the head with a machete. Ostriches react much in the same way as chickens when their heads are removed, except in this case, the flopping bird could kill you if you got too close.

Once it settled down, they all grabbed on to throw it into the back of the truck. However, this was 300 pounds of dead weight. They couldn't get a decent grip on it. Every time they tried to pick it up, they were only successful on the sides. They couldn't get the bulk of it off the ground. They couldn't even roll it in.

By this time, they had been out for over an hour. People would be showing up at the BBQ by now expecting to eat. The host was getting anxious to get moving. He dug some chains out from behind the seat and secured them to the bird's feet and the other end to the bumper of his truck. He said if they could get it to the barn, they could come up with something to get it in the truck. They were over a half mile out in the pasture, but they drug that ostrich all the way.

Once they got to barn, they tried setting up boards on the tailgate to roll it in and several other methods. Nothing seemed to work. Eventually, they threw a rope over one of the rafters in the barn and used the truck to lift the bird into the air. They secured the rope and then drove the truck underneath and lowered it back down.

With the ostrich finally in the truck, they triumphantly made their way back to the party. They discovered that many people had arrived and started the celebration without them. The scheduled time had passed over two hours before then and they hadn't even cleaned and butchered the bird yet. Several people jumped in to help to get the meat started, but it was a slow process. Most of the people left before the first pieces came off.

Trevor and his friends stuck around. After all the work they had put into getting it here, they weren't about to miss out. Plus, they were covered in ostrich blood and figured this might be the only place where that look would be acceptable.

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After Trevor finished his story, I asked him what he thought of ostrich meat. His reply was simple.

"It tastes like chicken."

Fortune Cookie #6 - Confidence Isn't Enough

I recently got to visit my favorite local restaurant again, China Buffet #6. As usual, I was very happy with the experience right up to the very last bite. At the end, they brought me my bill and accompanying fortune cookie. Here was my fortune:

They can because they think they can.

When I do these fortune cookie posts, I often feign ignorance at what they mean to try to pull a post out of it, but for this one I want to make it clear that I completely understand the meaning. I just vehemently disagree.

I have heard the following phrase hundreds of times and know it has been used by sales seminars, self-help books and new age gurus:

"Whether you think you can or cannot, you are right."

Stewie Griffin even said it once to Brian in an episode of Family Guy. The idea behind it is fairly simple. Often the biggest deterrent to your success is your own self doubt. I can't disagree with that. There are a lot of people who do not succeed because they never step forward to do what is necessary to succeed due to the fact that they do not believe in themselves. However, that is not what this fortune cookie said.

While it is similar, it is not the same.

I am sorry to inform all you bright eyed youngsters who believed your mother when she said, "You can do anything you set your mind to." It's not true. Your mother lied to you. It takes a whole lot more than just determination, belief, and a healthy self-esteem to accomplish most significant tasks.

Several years ago, my brother Trevor had just left the bar with a girl and was driving home when they came upon a bull in the middle of the road. Despite the fact that the ditches were shallow and he was driving a large jacked-up, four-wheel drive truck, he decided to get out and move the bull by hand rather than drive around it or nudge it with the bumper. Trevor fully believed that he could impress this girl move this bull, but his belief did not prevent his horn-shaped puncture wounds, loss of hair and skin, and days of soreness that he experienced later.

When I was a teenager standing in the bed of my buddy's truck, I firmly believed that I would be able to jump into the bed of another friend's truck as he sped by. The idea that it might not work never even crossed my mind. A few minutes later, when my friends dragged my bloody body into the nearest bar to seek medical assistance (yes, we went to a bar), I fully believed that my shock-induced pick up lines were good enough to break through the sight of my injuries to the cute bartender who was tending to my wounds. As she was applying antiseptic and asked where else I was hurt, I started to undo my belt. She just left me bleeding in the back room.

My brother Kyle was about 8 years old when he believed he could do a flip out of the barn loft at our grandfather's house. He believed it because I thought it would be cool to see and convinced him he could do it. I did such a good job of pumping up his confidence, that soon I even believed he could do it…right up to the moment he leapt out and belly flopped onto the grass twelve feet below. Then, I believed Dad would make me pay for my idea. That belief was correct.

In each of these instances, not only was believing in success not enough to make it happen, but it was the firm belief that something could be done that got us into trouble to begin with. There is usually a reason for caution. Not everything can be done just because you are confident and believe in yourself.

Some people's belief in themselves is so deeply rooted that they can't see the truth even after it has been shown to them. In this video, the contestant truly believed he had what it took.

I have worked with youth for close to two decades and have met literally hundreds of teens who were convinced they were going to be professional athletes. There was no doubt in their minds. They didn't just want to do this, they believed it with their entire being. However, they were lacking a key feature needed in order to succeed: the necessary talent.

NOPE! They can because they are good enough.

Believing that you will go to college will not get you there. It takes work. Believing your business will be a success will not make it happen. It requires a good business plan, hard work, long hours, wise decisions and a host of other factors. Believing you are going to win American Idol because your grandma convinced you that you are better than any of those "screeching idiots on the radio" will not impress Simon or even the nicer judges.

I am not suggesting that people should not pursue their dreams and I will agree that success usually starts with someone believing that something can be done, but that belief is only the very beginning and is definitely not the factor that makes it happen. There is so much more involved. We've all met that incredible cocky person who believes they are the greatest in the world at something (or in some cases, everything). Yet, despite that person's incredible belief, they never accomplish anything worthy. Belief is overrated. Success is achieved by hard work and persistence. Sometimes, even then, it sometimes still doesn't come. I leave you with the wise words of the poet Shel Silverstein.

The Little Blue Engine

The little blue engine looked up at the hill.

His light was weak, his whistle was shrill.

He was tired and small, and the hill was tall,

And his face blushed red as he softly said,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

So he started up with a chug and a strain,

And he puffed and pulled with might and main.

And slowly he climbed, a foot at a time,

And his engine coughed as he whispered soft,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.”

With a squeak and a creak and a toot and a sigh,

With an extra hope and an extra try,

He would not stop — now he neared the top —

And strong and proud he cried out loud,

“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”

He was almost there, when — CRASH! SMASH! BASH!

He slid down and mashed into engine hash

On the rocks below... which goes to show

If the track is tough and the hill is rough,

THINKING you can just ain’t enough!

Stuntman Training #4 - Winter Games

It has steadily been getting cooler over the last few weeks, but this week it took that dip that I just hate to see. The temperature got down below freezing letting me know that winter is almost upon us. I don't say that with any type of anticipation. I have explained many times how much I despise the cold weather, snow, and ice. Click here for a post I wrote two years ago to get a feel for how much I hate it. I get a little depressed every time I step outside and get hit with that cold air. I hate it.

Despite how much I despise winter today, I can remember a time when I didn't mind as much. I don't believe I have ever been a fan of winter, but I was capable of going out and enjoying it from time to time.

We had a big snow one year when I was in high school and classes were cancelled for days due to the bad road conditions. My uncle Kevin drove a four wheel drive and asked if we wanted to go out and enjoy the winter conditions. My brothers and I bundled up and piled in the back of his truck.

The roads were in such bad conditions he never got above 35 MPH. As we were watching the scenery go by, we were amazed at the size of the snow drifts burying the mailboxes and filling the ditches. In several places, if it hadn't been for the tracks of the people that had driven through before us, there would be no way of knowing where the road was. Sometimes the drifts were even over the fence posts extending from the surrounding fields right onto the road.

My brother Kyle, noticing that the road was covered with hard packed snow due to the cars that had previously driven on it, decided to try some body skiing. Once we were sure Kevin wasn't looking, Kyle crawled over the tailgate and stepped out onto the slick road. Trying to counterbalance his weight, he slowly got both feet onto the road as the truck continued to move. On his first attempt, he was standing on the road while holding on to the bumper. He lost his balance every now and then, but as long as he held on to the bumper, he was able to soon regain his footing.

We were so busy watching Kyle that we forgot to keep our eye on Kevin. He had seen what we were doing, but figured since Kyle was already out of the back of the truck, the most dangerous part was already past and just kept driving. However, we quickly became aware that he knew what was going on when he yelled back, "DRY PATCH!"

We were approaching an intersection and the extra traffic on that portion of pavement had worn the snow away causing a 10 foot section of bare asphalt.  The snow and ice on the roads made it impossible for Kevin to stop the truck before getting to it. Since Kevin had been watching us in the back, he hadn't seen it on time. Kyle couldn't hear the warning due to the sound of his boots gliding on the ice and the sound of the truck. He had no time to react. The warning wasn't soon enough.

His feet hit the patch and abruptly stopped sliding. They took traction on the pavement and whipped his legs out from underneath him. The sudden jolt shot his body up into the air. However, due to the conditions and difficulty he had staying on his feet even before the dry patch, Kyle had a firm grip on the bumper and he held tight.

He landed on his knees and immediately fell, but never released his grip. He was being drug behind the truck. Kevin could not see directly behind the truck and did not know what was happening, but hadn't seen Kyle careen off into a ditch, so he knew he was still back there and kept driving. Plus, we weren't flagging him to stop.

Picture this, but with snow...and no rope.

Kyle discovered that it was just as much fun to drag behind the truck as it was to try to stay upright. Plus, now that he had injured his knee, standing was no longer an option. Trevor, not wanting to miss out on the fun, soon crawled out the back and joined Kyle on the bumper. Now when the occasional dry patch came, they just held tight and rode it out. The extra padding was all that was needed to protect their skin from being peeled off by the road.

We soon approached an area that had wide deep ditches, but they couldn't be seen due to the heavy drifting. There was no more room behind the truck on the bumper, but I wanted to have my fun too. I stood up in the bed of the truck, moved to the side, steadied one foot on the rail and launched myself out.

I tucked into a somersault and landed on my back in the middle of a large drift. The snow provided the padding I had expected. However, I had not anticipated how deep it would be in the snow and the difficulty I would face in getting out. It took me a couple of minutes to even get my feet under me and another couple of minutes to fight my way back to the top and back to the road.

The truck was stopped a few hundred feet further up the road. Kevin felt the shake of me jumping out, but hadn't seen it. When he looked back, he found an empty bed. Not knowing where I had gone and also not being aware that Trevor had joined Kyle out the back, he didn't know what had happened. He stopped in investigate, but no one had seen me jump.

I caught up to them and Kevin was not happy. He warned that the funny business had to stop because our mother would kill him if she found out he was letting us do this stuff. We agreed to be good and got back in the back of the truck.

As we got going down the road, I was telling Kyle and Trevor about what I had done. It was so fun flying through the air and not having to worry about the difficult landing part. They wanted to try it, but knew Kevin wouldn't go for it. We started watching for clear spots and when we saw one coming up that looked good enough, we all jumped out at the same time.

 After another warning from Kevin, we were back on the road again. Kevin had agreed to let us hang on to the back bumper as long as we didn't jump out any more. We agreed, but soon grew bored with this. Kyle flipped onto his back and pulled himself under the moving truck, Indiana Jones style. I hung on to the back bumper to relay messages to Kyle about dry patches from Trevor who was sitting in the bed watching the road ahead for us.

Kyle pulled himself all the way to the front of the truck and grabbed hold of the front bumper. He held there long enough for me to work my way back into the bed of the truck so I could watch the show that was about to happen.

Once seated in the back, Trevor and I watched Kevin as he continued to drive, thinking Kyle was being pulled behind us. After a couple of minutes, Kyle's head popped up over the front of the truck. Kevin jumped and dropped his coffee. Kyle dropped back down and was at the back of the truck again before Kevin could come to a stop.*

*Going to the back is much easier than pulling yourself forward.

Kevin made us get in the cab with him since we couldn't be trusted anymore. We drove to the nearest country bar and had hot chocolate while Kevin had a few stiffer drinks to calm his nerves.

Between each drink, he repeated the phrase that he had uttered hundreds of times in the past, "Please, don't tell your mother."

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For other stories of times we used less than discerning judgement about basic safety, check out the following posts.
Don't Try This at Home
This Is Why My Body Is Falling Apart Today
Stuntman Training #1
Stuntman Training #2 - Playing with Fire
Stuntman Training #3 - Creative Uses for Living Room Furniture

Back In My Day...

Earlier this week, I was teaching a class to a bunch of high school kids and they got to talking about how difficult their lives are. They all complained about the hardships they had to endure because of their parents.  I tried to convince them that their lives were not as bad as they thought they were, but they insisted that they had it rough. I asked them for examples of their mistreatment and got the following answers.

• "It's not fair that my parents make me use a cell phone that only has a 4 megapixel camera."
• "I have to share a bathroom with my sister."
• "My mom won't let me have a ferret."
• "The cable TV in my bedroom didn't have HBO."
• "My cheapskate dad bought me a car that can't even play MP3s on the stereo."
• "My laptop doesn't have a webcam!"

As I tried not to laugh at their ridiculous claims about hardship, one of them noticed my stifled laughter. "Let me guess. You're going to tell us we don't know how good we have it and tell us stories about walking to school in the snow?"

I assured them that I had no such stories, but it was true that they had no idea what hardship was. However, since they wanted to direct it back at me and I always keep my laptop with me, I decided to treat them to a little slideshow.

I have been scanning all our family photos in my computer over the last few months and had the evidence I needed with me, so I didn't need to look very hard. I hooked it up to the class Smartboard and showed them photographic evidence of the real hardship I had experienced as a youth.

For the kid who thought he had it so hard because he didn't have HBO in his bedroom, I showed him what life was like before cable. We had a TV, but we used it like an end table. We would sit in front of it for hours pretending we were one of those rich families who had things like television reception.

Cousin Tabatha, Kyle, me
They weren't always in our size.

While the kids today are decked out in Hollister, Abercrombie & Fitch, Ocean Pacific, and Affliction, we had to wear hand-me-downs.

Hand-me-downs from the 70's!

Trevor trying to stay cool

 We didn't have crazy luxuries like air conditioning either. Sitting in an ice filled cooler in front of a fan was a good as it got.

Trevor hoping the dog doesn't fart again.

This picture was for the benefit of the girl who thought she was being mistreated for being forced to share her bathroom with her sister. We would've loved to have a bathroom and would have happily shared it with the entire family. We didn't concentrate on it much since we didn't have several of the other conveniences kids today are accustomed to.

Kyle was never ready for bed

Kyle had to sleep in a box because my parents refused to waste money on frivolities like beds.

Trevor would scoot down the stairs if not weighted down.

Trevor slept in a clothes basket when he was a baby. We had to put heavy books on top so he wouldn't crawl all over the house.

In chest: me  Closing it: Trevor

I would get shut in a chest each night. Once I brushed all the spiders out, it wasn't so bad.

It wasn't always this way. Eventually, the day came along when Dad announced to us that he was going to build us each our own room. We were so excited. He got to work on the construction and soon presented us with our new living arrangements.

Me, checking out my new place

Here was mine. I had to share it with the mouse traps and the paint, but it was all mine.

Trevor being ungrateful, as usual

This was Trevor's. I thought it was unfair that he had so much more space.

Kyle's really didn't change much.

Red the Cow. Tried to kill my grandmother once.

Next, I addressed the girl who had been whining all through class about not being able to own a ferret. My first pet was a cow and we eventually ate it. None of them could admit they'd ever had to eat one of their pets.

One of the girls piped up, "Well, at least you got to have a pet!"  This was true, but I tried to illustrate for them what having a pet meant when I was a kid. We didn't just have pets. We had to take care of them.

Before I was even out of diapers, I had to feed the cows every morning.

Stupid dog turned over the bowl again

After the cows were fed, I had to make sure the dogs had water.

Trevor: 25 feet off the ground
This cat wouldn't stay off the neighbor's roof

As the years passed, I was happy to get little brothers to share in taking care of the animals. Trevor always went after the ones that wandered off to bring them back home.

The choke hold rarely worked,
but Kyle insisted it was more humane.

Kyle took care of exterminating the ones that got sick.
I just didn't have the stomach for it.

Animals weren't the only things we had to take care of. My parents piled the chores on us as soon as we were able to walk. While kids today complain if they have to take out the trash, we had much more for which we were responsible.

Me learning my way around a hoe

There was gardening to be done.

Trevor and Kyle enjoying the smell

The lines had to be dug out when the sewer backed up.

Kyle doing some dirty work

We had to clean Dad's catch each afternoon.

The neighbor would use our lawn mower,
so we made his daughter work for us.

Harvest the rice patties.

Trevor was always best at tuning out the crying

Babysit the neighbors'kid

Me emptying the hair filter

Clean out the pool.

Me taking measurements for drywall

Remodel the bathroom

Me biting Trevor's fingernails
since I wasn't allowed to use scissors.

When younger, having to take care of little brothers.

Dad and Me

Bring Dad his beer after a long day of fishing.

Me and Kyle

And finally fix dinner, so we could clean up, get to bed, and start again in the morning.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of class, I had the kids convinced. It took the entire class period and I didn't cover any of the material that their regular teacher had left in the instruction book, but I think I taught them a valuable lesson that day. I have had 40 years to work on my sob story. I do it so much better than them.

Silence Speaks Volumes

It has hit that time of the year when the temperature in the evening is perfect. It is beautiful outside. There's a gentle breeze and for some reason, I actually feel like stepping outside of my house. Last night was one of those nights.

I noticed it when I got home and just felt drawn to go out and enjoy it. I ran into the house, changed my clothes and grabbed a good book. I sat in my front yard, planning to enjoy the weather and get lost in a story.

About the time I got settled, one of the neighbor kids yelled a greeting my way. I gave a quick acknowledging wave, but carefully avoided making eye contact or answering back for fear of engaging them in a conversation. To my surprise, they left me alone. The girl had a friend over and they were busy playing with Barbies while lying on the roof of another neighbor's car. The boy was playing in his sandbox.

"Awesome!", I thought. "They're distracted."

Excited at the idea that I might actually get to enjoy this weather and my book, I settled in. I had read about a page, when the girls had a disagreement which required screaming for some reason.

Girl A: That is not true. You're so stupid!
Girl B: Nu-uh! My gramma told me. Cats have 12 lives! That why they live so long.
Girl A: My cat got hit by a car last week and it was just dead!
Girl B: Well, he must have used up the other lives before then.
Girl A: Not HE!!! She was a girl!
Girl B: She must have been a stupid girl for playing in the road!

I almost corrected their mistake about cats and explained that all cats were stupid, but decided against it. They would have just brought the conversation to me and started complaining about each other and wanting me to fix it. I was just about to give up and retreat back to the house when one of them picked up a brick and chased the other down the street to hit her with it. Finally, some peace.

A few minutes later, the boy started wailing from the sandbox. As he cried, he picked up the toy dump truck and threw it against the swing set. Then, he picked it up and did it again. I surrendered my plan and withdrew back to the serenity of my house.

Luckily, I do not have small children any longer, so my house is fairly quiet. However, it hadn't always been that way. I remember once snapping at Christian because his laughing was beginning to grate on my nerves. Unfortunately, he was also old enough to talk.

"Excuse me, Dad. Is my being happy irritating you?" Imagine this being said with the dripping sarcasm of a snotty punk.

"I don't give a crap if you're happy, just do it silently. The same goes for when you sad, angry or bleeding."

Before I get angry comments from parents who "love" their kids and think that I should be ashamed, please note that the above dialogue was a joke. He didn't really have to be silent if he was bleeding. In fact, if he got blood on the carpet or the furniture and didn't say something, he lost his "time-outside-of-the-cellar" privileges.

Sometimes a parent just wants quiet. This is part of the reason why young kids can get into such mischief. When people hear stories of crazy things kids have done, they often ask, "Where were the parents?" The honest truth of the matter is, they were usually right in the next room, but since the kids weren't making any noise, they were just enjoying the temporary bliss. This happened once when I was very young.

My brothers and I were at home alone with our father one evening. I was seven years old. Kyle was four and Trevor was two. After Dad had threatened pleaded with us a few dozen times to quietly play without fighting, we found our way to the basement. It was far enough away, that we didn't have to be as careful about our noise.

After a considerable amount of time, we started finding new things to do and soon discovered how much room there was inside the dryer. One of us would crawl in and lean to one side to get it to turn. We fought over whose turn it was and kept pushing each other out. At one point, we got Trevor in there and we turned the barrel with our hands. We had a great time.

I knew this glorious machine was capable of turning itself, but every time I pushed the button that I had seen my mom pushed to make it work, nothing happened. At the time, I didn't know about the different settings and dials. Plus, the door would have to be shut for it to activate.

Once Kyle and I got bored with not being able to turn the dryer on so Trevor could go for a ride, we decided to just shut him in. Kyle held the door shut and I found a board to prop between one of the basement support beams and the handle of the dryer door. I have no idea why we did this, but I distinctly remember doing it.

Once we were certain he would not be able to get out, Kyle and I headed back up the stairs only to be met by our father at the top.

"Where's your brother?"

(shrugs) "I dunno."

Trevor's shrieks for help drowned out our pleas of false ignorance and he was soon rescued by Dad. That was the end of our night of fun.

The next morning, as Dad finished recalling the events of the previous evening to our mother over the breakfast table, she only had one comment as she glared at us.

"I hoped you spanked their butts."

"Yup. All three of them."

"What?!? You spanked the baby too? Why?"

"For being dumb enough to crawl in there."

When The Cat's Away

For the last year, I have spent a substantial amount of time outside of my house. I seems that I have become very busy. A variety of things call me to leave the comfort of my castle. I have a wide array of ways I make money, and most require me to go somewhere else. I am involved with church activities. I leave to go counsel people. I spend as much time as possible with Red. I assume most people have life events that keep them busy as well, but it seems that I am spending more and more time away from the house.

I am not complaining about my schedule and would not even give this a second thought if it weren't for the fact that I have a teenage daughter. Kirsten has a rich social life and is out of the house doing exciting things almost daily, despite her belief (common to many teenagers) that she has no life or friends. However, even with her busy schedule, she does occasionally find herself at home. Since I am always running as well, she sometimes finds herself at home when I am not there.

Myself, Kyle & Trevor

Kirsten is sixteen, so she is old enough that she does not need me there to tend to her every need. However, I remember being a teenager and having the house to myself. Although, in my situation, it wasn't just me. I had two brothers who were just as willing as me to slightly bend the rules when our parents weren't around.

We lived in a big two-story farmhouse and the second floor was all ours. It had our bedrooms and an extra room which we used for our TV, video games and whatever else we wanted to do. A steadfast rule, usually enforced by our mother, was the prohibition of girls from ever going upstairs.

As a parent, I understand the reasoning behind this rule, but as a teenager, I thought it was unreasonable when my friends came over that we couldn't hang out in the game room upstairs if any of our guests were testicle deficient. This was one example of a rule that was not necessarily followed according to my parents' wishes when they were not in the house. We even allowed girls past the game room if they were willing  begged to see the other rooms. 

Sometime during my teenage years, we got our first satellite dish. It was one of those huge 12 foot monsters that made your house look like an outer space communication center. It had to be rotated to point at the specific satellite you wanted to pull a signal from. This was before the days of scrambled channels and subscription fees. If you owned a dish, you had access to every cable channel.

Obviously, there were channels we were not allowed to watch. I don't just mean HBO or late night Cinemax, but the more adult audience specific channels, like Playboy or Spice. These channels only came on late in the evening, but on the rare occasions that Mom and Dad had gone out and left us at home, you could be certain that the dish would be pointed to receive those channels for at least a portion of the night.

 In addition to these and many other violations of the rules, the worst infraction(s) happened one year when my parents left for vacation and left us at home. I don't remember why we didn't go with them. We always had in the past, but this one was just for them. As an adult, I now understand this decision as well.

As Mom and Dad went through the chores that were to be done each day (feed animals, wash dishes, etc.) and warned us to behave ourselves, we honestly didn't have any devious plans to disobey them. After one of the many times that my mother threatened reminded us, once again, that we had the house to ourselves and we were good boys who knew right from wrong, my father, in his infinite wisdom said, "Denise, once we leave, they're going to do whatever they're going to do." My father was much smarter than I gave him credit for at the time.

Within a few hours after they had left, we began to realize the freedom that had been handed to us. The first incident of that freedom happened when I had done something to my brother Kyle, causing him to chase me through the house. As I jumped into the next room, I closed the door behind me to slow his chase, but he came through the door anyway without taking the time to open it. The door was ripped off its hinges and our chase (for the moment) stopped. Luckily, Kyle is pretty handy and was able to repair the damage and we rehung the door.

We hadn't planned on having a party, but as our friends learned that our house was adult free, it happened. I don't want to try to sound like a victim. We welcomed the idea, even if we hadn't thought of it. I will give the details of this party in my next post. Too much happened to try to include it all here.

Now that's
a knife!

Two days before the party, we were playing a game in the front yard. Both of my brothers, Kyle and Trevor were standing with a dozen other teens, beers in hand, playing a game of chicken.

Chicken is a very simple game. Two people stand facing each other about three feet apart. One person throws a bowie knife at the feet of the other, trying to get as close as possible without actually making contact. Extra respect is given to the person who can penetrate the side of the shoe and still not contact the foot. A participant immediately loses if he actually hits the other person or moves his foot when the other person throws. This is called being a 'chicken' and removes you from the game for someone else to take your place.

After going several rounds and the knife getting closer and closer to their feet, they began to raise the stakes, both to scare the other person and to impress the people watching. Kyle started throwing the knife with an underhand toss rather than throwing it straight down between Trevor's feet. This was especially difficult since the blade has to stick in order to get the scoring point, but he was doing it successfully each time.

Trevor did not appreciate this technique since Kyle had to toss the knife up causing it to come close to Trevor's body and sometimes even his face before it would drop and sink into the dirt. However, that was part of the strategy designed to get the other person to move. After Trevor demanded he change his method several times, Kyle performed a beautifully executed low toss, which caused the blade to come up just under Trevor's groin. Trevor did not move.

Trevor bent down to pull the knife out of the ground. When he stood up, he had a smirk on his face and we all saw the look in his eye. We all knew what was about to happen.

Kyle stared hard at Trevor and through his teeth whispered, "You son of a bitch."

Trevor smiled as he raised his arm. He quickly let it drop and sank the blade in the center of Kyle's foot.

Kyle let out a howl, but stood his ground. He then looked at the crowd and yelled, "Did I move? I stayed still, right?"

Several members of the awestruck crowd agreed that he had not moved. He then pulled out the blade, handed it to Trevor and said, "You lose."

He ran into the house to patch up his new injury and we could already hear the blood sloshing in his boots as he moved. After a few minutes, I went in to check on him and was appalled to discover the trail of blood across the carpet and spray of blood on the bathroom wall from when he had swung his leg up into the sink.

I yelled, "Look at this mess!"

Kyle retorted, "Look at my foot!"

I looked at the bloody mess of the sink and the crimson settling into the carpet. "Uh, yeah. That looks awful...look at this mess!"

While Kyle tended to his foot, Trevor and I started cleaning up the blood before it dried hoping that would keep it from staining the carpet.

Now that I am a parent, every time I come home after my daughter has been home without me, I check the 'recently viewed' list on Netflix, examine the condition of the door jambs and demand to see her feet. I have explained that these inspections are for her own protection and necessary precautions for me to perform as a responsible parent, but she doesn't seem to understand. I don't tell her why I am checking because I don't want to give her any ideas.

So far, all inspections have been to my satisfaction proving that my daughter has never tried anything. Hopefully, she never will.