End of summer...again!

September already!  Can you believe it?  Where did it go?  Summer, I mean.
Summer brings back memories of riding my blue Schwinn tank-of-a-bike, feeling the freedom that all kids on bikes experience, trips in the station wagon (precursor to your stinkin' mini van.  Ask your parents) from here (Utah) to visit Grandma in Florida (why do kids always go to "Grandma's", never to "Grandpa's"?), digging forts in the vacant lot-holes and tunnels in the ground covered by plywood and dirt, playing "kick the can" until it got too dark to see, getting up way early to go fishing-and hunting night crawlers the night before, visiting our cousins in Roosevelt, which also involved swimming in the canal, jumping off the haystack into the canal, chasing cows, eating fresh garden stuff-tomatoes, cucumbers, corn, going to town to watch 3 movies at the theater for a quarter, getting "wild indians" at the Rexall drugstore, and, best of all, my older brother ending up in an uncovered septic hole.  I also remember long summer days of not enough to do (don't tell your parents, or they will find you something to do!), then going to bed while it was still light-and very hot-wishing I was still outside.  I think my parents put us to bed just to get us out of their hair for an hour or so before their bedtime.  Imagine that.  Kind of like sending your kids out to get in the car, then not going out yourself for a few minutes-just to enjoy a quiet house for a bit.

So, what to share on my little story place?  I thought about writing about school, but I don't want to miss summer again!  Writing about school is tempting because-
-I was good at it, even though I didn't know this at the beginning.
-I had several teachers who made me feel like I was pretty bright and could do things.
-I got better grades than my siblings, so report card day was kind of nice for me.  You ask what are "grades" and " report cards"?  Well, grades were how the teacher let your parents (and you) know how you were doing in school, and if you should plan on a life of crime or being a hobo, or if there was a chance for you to do something more.  And "report cards"?  We'll visit that again another time.

OK! Enough about school.  More later.

So, for today, how about a short story or two?

Roosevelt, Utah is in the Uintah basin, or just "the basin" for those of us who have people there.  Our mother's younger sister, Aunt Jennis, had married one of the Yack brothers of the infamous Yack Brothers Honey, and they lived in Roosevelt.  They had some acreage on the edge of town, a little house with small, cool rooms, a huge garden, a haystack, some cows (sometimes), a chicken coop and a whole different world from the one I was familiar with in South Salt Lake.

We would take the three hour trip out there several times a year-mostly always in the summer, as highway 40 was an icy death trap in the winter.  And our cars were not as reliable as what we all travel in now.  And there were no cell phones.  Kind of like living like cavemen, right?

One time, my two brothers and I, along with our cousin Jerry, were out playing army in the pasture by our aunt's home.  Did I mention that, when I was quite young, there was an outhouse (ask your parents, or look at the calendar Aunt Lindsey gave us all for Christmas) behind their home?  Well, there was, and you need to keep that fact in mind.

My older brother was always trying to be the boss when we played, and was doing so on the day in question.  He was leading us on marches.  Now, you need to realize that our generation came along shortly after World War II, and the war, along with the military was a big influence in our lives.  I still resent that my mom wouldn't let us watch "Combat" on TV...
OK-back to the story-we were in waist high alfalfa, marching here and there.  I think most of us (meaning everyone but Randy) were getting a bit tired of the marching-sounds like the real thing, don't you think?-and were hoping for a quick end.  I think I remember Randy encouraging us to step it up and get in line.  He had turned to face us to let us know our marching was not quite up to his lofty expectations.  As he turned and shouted "Forward harch" (yes, we did think that was how real soldiers said "march"), he took a step, maybe two, and disappeared!   With a splash-well, not a "splash".  More like a "splut".  Followed by weeping and wailing.

Do you remember my telling you that there was an outhouse involved?  Well, I guess that an outhouse had occupied (in the kind of recent past) that very spot where my brother had so gallantly marched.

What a stinkin' situation!  Well, I don't recall what happened next.  I assume that I, being the "good" kid of the bunch, ran back to the house to fetch a grown up or two.  I also assume that they successfully got him out of the Pit of Despair (the original one).  I do remember that my Aunt Jennis would not let him in her house until he had hosed off and left his clothes outside.

I also remember a couple of other things-at least I think I do.  I think I thought it was kind of amusing.  I am sure that I had a few chuckles over my dear brother's poopy dilemma.  I also kind of think that, somehow, our cousin had set my brother up to take that final step.  I remember some encouragement from him to have us march in a certain direction.  Our cousin did play some interesting pranks on us when we stayed out in Roosevelt.  Ask me about the glowing wolf's head sometime.

What lessons did I learn from my brother's unfortunate step into the pit?   Well, "look before you leap" or before you "forward harch".  And-be kind to those following you so they may not lead you astray from behind.  And mostly-that I'm glad that there were not lasting injuries involved for my brother.  That way we can still chuckle at this little episode.  If he had been seriously injured, then it would be difficult to find it amusing.

But he does still smell a bit ripe at times...

Good night.

Maybe we need to talk about Florida adventures next time.  And I'm not talking Disney World.  More like using the little Yankee boys as  gator bait.  We'll see.