That's why I asked it :wink:
Well, the grownups in my family were every bit as immature as the children. My step-father spent hours picking on his mother, sister and nephew, from whom we rented the house in the back. One day he gave them such a hard time that I began feeling nationalistic about the whole thing, the way superpatriots do when nations squabble. So, it was us against them. I don't recall how old I was - perhaps nine or ten. I went into the outhouse, which adjoined a storage shed and had a cotton mattress propped against the wall away from the potty-holes. Feeling quite vengeful, I struck a match and touched it to the cotton where the fabric was torn. As a flame took hold and began growing, I felt remorse, remembering how my step-grandmother had befriended me, remembering how we often ate breakfast together while the others slept. I snuffed the flame and got out of there. A few hours later, fire engulfed the outhouse and the fire department had to be called. I never admitted involvement til long after the grownups involved were dead.
Great post Edgar, I was hoping you'd stop in.
The workmen poured the concrete for our new neighbor's driveway and then they left. My seven year old brother, my five-year old cousin, our dog (Yankee boy) and three-year old johnboy decided it would be fun, a lot of fun, to walk around on the wet cement.
My parents got sued over that. But the judge threw it out calling it "an attractive nuisance" that the contractor had failed to properly secure.
"An attractive nuisance" became part of our family's lexicon. Maybe it should be my avatar or the little tag line at the bottom of a post by -rjb-
Panzade, I stayed in the doghouse as a child. Somehow, it was always my fault. My tyrant of a step-dad once took me out in the back yard, just had me follow him out of the house. At the fenceline he took a long pause and looked out in the field across it or perhaps beyond even, I don't know. He then started for the house, me walking with him. "You g-d d---ed bastard," he said. Then the episode was over. To this day, I haven't a clue what I was being blamed for.
I grew up in the depths of the country so it was safe to roam - I had much more freedome that children do now,
One day some of my friends decided to walk to the beach - about 3 -4 miles away and i went with them. I would have been about 8 years old probably and none of us were allowed anywhere near that far away. We had a brilliant time playing on the beach and then headed for home exhausted ...
a long very very very steep hill up from the beach and the long tiring hot walk home - and who should drive past near the top of the hill but my very strict father - he slowed the car, glared at me and drove on - leaving me to walk the rest of the way, tired out and knowing i was in BIG trouble when i got home!
Lovely posts Little and Osso. Reminded me that our neighborhood was surrounded by ten acres of dense woods with a shallow creek bisecting it(Holmes Run Creek). There were old encampments from the Civil War;probably Jeb Stuart's. We found many minnie balls and ammunition and even some Confederate flat ware. Alas the woods were flattened for a development.
We never found any man made artifacts! I was always so let down.
We also used to run behind the mosquito smogger and frollick in the toxic fumes it put out. I don't think we did that too often as we are all still alive.
My older sister and brother would get me and my little sister to 'do stuff'. One boring weekend morning found me and my little sister flashing passers-by. Until a neighbor-lady came out and scolded us.
When the whole neighborhood brat pack was out playing we'd go for kick the can (older) or hide and seek (younger).
Walter, thet's a swell mobile you had there. Tell us about it. Who made it?
panzade wrote:Olly Olly In-Come-Free!
Free income? Where? Please don't tell me you are the prince of Nigeria.
Oh Canuck! You will never ever understand that phrase...lol
I learned "Olly Olly Ox in free"
I only played it til the age of three.
That's probly cause at the age of three no one could find you.
How's about Mumbledy Peg? I spent a summer learning how to play with my trusty SAKnife.
Yep, the neighborhood hide-n-seek always ended in the seeker yelling "olly olly..."
I never went to any kind of "summer camp" but some of my friends did. They told great stories about going out late at night: snipe hunting.
They never caught one but they were pretty sure that they saw one of those elusive critters.
Ha Ha, I won't tell if you won't tell!
