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Shooting Stars & Snakes-Conclusion TGIF by the way! OK....On to the story....;) Aright gang...Same scenerio, same time, same place, different subject. A week or so later we were back at the fake airfield...(No not an Arkansas mobile home with wings as DMan has stated), but real live rusting hulks from a former war...). Anyway, we were back at the fake airfield. This particular night, a trail test of our knowledge on security badges. Each boy took his turn in the guard shack checking badges of different personnel as they tried to gain entrance, but most of us failed. Straining to check out a badge under moonlight conditions is bad at best, but....we failed miserably. The reason...Although the badges looked legit, the one thing that tripped most of us up was not comparing signatures with images and vice a versa. Some boys, let in personnel with correct signautres, but with a picture of Donald Duck...Whoops! Other boys checked the images against the person, but failed to check the signature. For instance a picture matched the person standing before them, but perhaps the signature read Mickey Mouse. Although funny, looking back on it now, it was a serious miscalculation on our parts, which in turn could have gained access for an enemy. Of course the conversation of the evening turned to the previous weeks encounter with the flaming bowling bowl. It was kind of fun, making up things that we thought we saw or felt on that evening, the two of us being front and center of all attention. But having already been instructed on runway procedures, it was now our turn in the bunkers. Being Texas and all, the days were extremely hot and muggy and the nights colder than an iceberg in the Atlantic. Loose clothing during the day, jackets and extra socks in the evening...thats how it went... Anyway, relegated to the bunkers we thought at first would be OK. Afterall we had sandbags to sit on vs. standing or walking around. But being that the bunkers were half buried in the surrounding earth, the sandbags were wet from the cool night air and the half buried earth surrounding us made it even colder. Our Sergeant came back and forth from bunker to bunker with instructions of various sorts and we practiced a lot. Set up here, do this, do that...OK....and on and on. Pretty boring stuff, but when our DI left to offer instuction to the other side, we gained a few minutes of time to joke around. The Drill Instructor came back to our position and selected one boy to go with him. Fortuantely most of us had our turn at "Volunteering," so the very last kid that had not been selected fell victim to our Sergeants whims. As the two of them disappeared into the darkness, it gave us another oppourtunity to crack jokes and goof off. Five minutes latrer our DI returned, but without the kid. Knowing better than to ask a Sergeant what was going on we fell silent. I had a thought that perhaps he was setting us up for an enemy attack, but wasn't sure. Sitting silently in a cold bunker wasn't my idea of fun. It was freezing ass cold and was so crowded we could hardly make a move to stay warm. Our eyes hurt from straining to see in the limited light, as we scanned from end to end of the runway looking for intruders. Suddenly one of my buddies tapped me on the arm as he pointed to a dark shadow emerging from the darkness...But it was pointless...The figure came into view screaming and hollering at the top of his lungs, running full tilt towards the opposite end of the runway. Our Di was fuming that the kids was announcing his intrusion with screams and yells, but told us to fire anyway. thos of us many the guns set up a crossfire with our DI announcing we had killed the enemy...but... The kid just kept running full throttle straight ahead. "Your dead, son!" He hollered at the runnning boy. But it did no good. The poor kid just kept running on past the bunkers full tilt as fast as he could go. At one point someone noticed something trailing behind him, but we couldn't figure out what it was. Not responding to our DI's call for his to stop and drop to the ground, our Sargeant took of in pursuit. But...the kid had such a head start that poor ol' Sarge couldn't keep up. Reaching the guard shack at the other end of the runway, the guard stepped out to stop the kid, but the poor boy only circled coming back towards our out of breath sergeant. Just like some WWF Wrestling match, ol' Sarge extended his arm and clothslined the kid to the ground. The poor kid was still screaming and kicking and it took both the guard and our DI to hold him down. About this time, the rest of us had left our bunkers and took off towards the two men. Reaching them we gathered round, as Sarge pulled something from the kids boot and tossed it to the side. It was a rattlesnake! An old Texas rattler, not very long, but thick as your arm... The stroy.... A day later sour Segeant recounted the story....He had taken the kid to a hidden brushy area at the head of the airfield and instructed him after five minutes to make a silent penetration of the airfield. He wasn't supposed to scream and holler or announce his arrival but to silently infilitrate our space. Evidently somehow he stepped on a rattler which struck and bit the poor kid right in the leather piece that runs up the back of a combat boot. Somehow the snakes fangs became lodged in the tough leather and no amount of shaking his foot or anything else could dislodge it...so the run down the entire length of a football sized runway, hollering and screaming like a banshee, with a Big Ol' Texas Rattler flailing along attached to his boot! He was scared to death that he had been bitten. A city kid at heart, he had never seen a snake and was deftly afraid of them. Not that any of us wouldn't have acted the same, but you know boys, we condemed him for being a sissy! As luck would have it, the snakes fangs only entered through the leather and not his foot. But the snake did manage to unload it's venom into his boot, where a blister allowed the venom into his body. A week in the hospital and he was back with us. But only for a short while. He recieved a medical discharge...probably due to being snakebit!
Shooting Stars & Snakes... It was close to midnight. Although dark, the sky was cloudless and the heaven's were on display for all to see. A bright moon lit our way as we marched forth to a lonely part of the airfield. "Were the heck are we headed?" I wondered, as we marched slowly on. Soon we reached a small wooden shack. A lone sentry, a Sergeant, checked our badges and let us pass. Turning East, we marched out into a large field that had been laid bare by some type of equipment, probably a road grader. Our Sergeant, stopping us at mid point of the field, put us at ease then began his talk. "Airman, this here is a simulated Vietnam airfield," He said. "You are standing at midpoint of the runway." Pointing into the darkness, he guided our eyes to a series of shadowy aircraft, mounted on concrete piers. "And over there are the aircraft of the USAF, your responsibility to defend!" (Upon closer inspection of the old fighters we kind of chuckled. "If this is what the Air Force is flying were in real trouble," we thought...for they were ancient aircraft, perhaps from the Korean War)! After a quick tour of the aircraft area, he marched us over to the perimter of the runway. Located on both sides and about midpoint were two sandbagged bunkers, built into the ground, similar to a baseball dugout. Sandbags lined all sides, the sky covered over by a wooden structure. Inside the bunker a sandy floor. All we had to sit on were sandbags..Now you would think sandbags are soft and comfortable but you would be wrong. Packed to their limit they were like sitting on concrete. Gaps in the front sandbagged wall provided slots for our M-16's. Our Sergeant divided us into two groups. One along with me in the right bunker and the others across the airfield in the opposite one. During the next hour insturction was given on the various procedures on how to protect the airfiled from the enemy, how to protect ourselves and our fellow airman and instruction on crossifring the airfield. All important things to a group of young kids, potentially headed for Vietnam. Next up came instruction on patrolling the runway. As they used to say in the military never volunteer...for you are the volunteer! "You three follow me!" Our Sergeant hollered, pointing to me and two other boys. We promptly ran after him joining him in the middle of the runway. After some instruction, he sent one of the boys to the far end of the airfield and me and the other boy in the center of the runway. Our Sergeant spotting somethning not quite right in the right bunker told us to stay put, as he left to resolve some issue. The two of us left alone for at least a few minutes enjoyed our freedom. Not something that one finds while in boot camp, so you have to look for spots to sort of relieve the stress. Talk turned to our friends, family and other non-military things. Soon the conversation turned to how beautiful and peaceful the heavens were that night. I pointed out several constellations to my friend-(My dad was a Navigator in WWII, and had always pointed out the stars to navigate by, the constellations and the planets). My friend was amazed and asked many questions, some of which I could answer. Suddenly we spotted a shooting star. It appeared out of nowhere and zoomed across the heavens in a streak of white light. It was awesome. Our talk then turned to comets and stars and other things. A few minutes later the Sergeant sent out a kid to join us on duty. He stood silently by for a few minutes as we finished our conversation. The Sergeant was still busy with the kids in the bunker, so we sort of took a break....;) The conversation turned silent and we stood gazing at the heavens. Someone spotted another shooting star and shouted out. We watched as a tiny little speck of lite, fell from the night and shot across the darkened sky. But unlike other shooting stars that just sort of fell in a straight line, this one fell then straightened out, then fell again, then disappeared. It was something none of us had seen before and we were all amazed. Stunned at the unusual falling star, we just stared off in the distance, silent and unmoving. Suddenly a bright ball of light appeared dead center at the far end of the runway. For a minute I thought it was an approaching aircraft until I realized were were standing on a fake runway. Before any of us could move the bright light zipped by, dead center of the fake runway, and perhaps six to ten feet off the ground. As it neared us, the bowling ball sized chunk of flaming rock burst into a maze of brilliant colors. Red, and orange, and yellow with a tail of debris. Although the whole event lasted perhaps a second or less, it seemed like minutes. We watched the bright flaming bowling ball as it vanished into thin air. Seconds later, our Sergeant and boys from both bunkers had gathered next to us on the runway. "Do you know how close that thing came to you?" Someone said. No...we didn't have any idea, but it did look as if we could reach out and touch it. "If you boys had been standing a few feet to the North, you probably wouldn't be here now!" Our Sergeant warned. Over the course of the next several weeks, the two of us were the recepients of many questions; "Did you feel the heat from that thing?", or "What did you see?" We also made the joke circuit; "A few feet closer and we would have had two flaming assholes," or "Did you meet the two boys who rode the Flaming Meteor?" Anyway it was quite an experiance. A year later in fact, I would have my second encounter with a falling star, but that's another story. Coming Up....Shooting Stars & Snakes...Part Two
Stumped... Perhaps it's the oncoming winter months...or maybe the third week of a long cold I have had, or any number of stress's of late... Anyhow, I seem to be stumped tonight. Never for a loss of words or stories, or an upbeat postive attitude, I seem to have hit a brick wall. I guess I should have expected it at some point, but tonight the old brain, just quit...Maybe it's time to give up the farm. So....I started this little ditty in order to kick start the ol' noggin' but it just won't go. Nada, nothin' just empty words on a black screen, (Or is it blue?). "Come on!, Come on!...There has to be a story in there somewhere!" Dad and I and some others flew to the back country for an Elk hunt years ago...(That is when the prices were low and a working guy could afford it)! My memory is that it was the first hunt of the season, right after the snow had left the high country. For some reason, only half the horses had been transferred from their winter range to the lodge. Dad's ol' standby horse, "Chief" was not available and so he had to select another horse. (He and his buddy had hunted there for 30+ years and Chief was the only horse he would ride. The reason...(Dad a tall and heavy man at the time, wanted a sturdy horse). So after selecting our horses, dad ended up with a very small horse. Not a pony, but a really small horse of thin girth. We were looking forward to a 5 hour horseback ride up a treacherous mountain trail to our hunting camp. Several hours into the ride we came upon a treachourous rock slide, that the trail crossed. Dad was behind me and I could hear the constant heavy breathing of his small horse...In fact it sounded as if it was hacking and coughing it made so much racket. Dad complained, jokingly that his horse was mentally unstable and we all laughed at the thought. The entire ride he made fun of his new horse and his fate of now riding on Chief. Soon we crossed the rock slide, then coming to a switchback had to go up another steep and narrow trail. At one point-the only flat spot in the entire ride, he decided to pass me so he could talk with the wrangler on the way up. Continuing on, his horse kept on coughing and hacking and then started farting...Thats right folks...and guess who was rding behind it! PHEW! So here we were climbing a steep mountain trail, following a horse coughing and hacking, farting and shitting all the while...Nice move! As we continued to climb, poor ol' dad's horse gave one deep cough, then leaned over...That's right...he leaned over to his right, towards the steep canyon below as if to rest against the tree. Poor ol' dad attempted to dismount but was pinned against the tree by his horse. I hollered at dad to hold on, while I trotted ahead to get the wranglers attention. We both dismounted and came cautiously back. Dad's horse was still standing on all fours but his legs were crossed. He sort of looked like he was sleeping standing up against the tree, as his head was down. Dad was sort of holding himslef up with his arms, his leg pinned to the tree. The wrangler went over and yanked on the rein to get the horse's attention but it did not move. "Whats' the matter?" Dad asked. "Ahhh...he's just tired. Lets get you off and give him a break, then we will continue." The wrangler yanked on the reins again, but the horse still didn't move. I also gave a hand, but even with both of us we could not move the horse. After severl minutes, several of dad's buddies came back on foot. It took the four of us to yank the horse upright so dad could get off. We all just stood and stared at this poor little horse as he looked like he was half dead. "Lets just walk him for a bit and he will be OK," He told us. At that he handed dad the reins and we started to walk our horse's up the steep trail. We only made it several feet, before dad's horse gave another gasp and keeled over, deader than a ....well a horse! The wrangler came back and listened to the horses's chest before declaring he was dead. "What now?" Dad asked. The wrangler took off the horse's bridle and saddle and then with our help pushed him over the cliff. We watched as the little horse rolled end over end until he disappeared in the rocks below. "Hell of a way to go!," Dad said. "Yep," The wrangler said...and you know thats the fastest that FN horse has ever moved!" Smile
Vanished or Banished...Take Your Pick! A lovely note on the tag board from Aile, piling on tribute for my Kid Speak section. I never know if anyone reads this stuff, but it's a personal thing I do that keeps my humor...;)Anyhow as a personal favor to someone whom actually read the Kid Speak section, here is a short story with images ....Enjoy! ;) I have to premise this story by stating that I type this with a cute two year old blond sitting next to me, in a big ol' wooden chair and pillow, pink jello juice, "Bugs in a Jar," and a bowl of popcorn shared with you know who;)..No not the Bugs in a Jar, the popcorn! Last week during a funfilled few days with grandma and grandpa- which by the way the two darlins were almost perfect, we had a BLAST! A new air mattress was the attention of our fun. Purchased by said wifey, to sleep on when the grandkids are here...(they sleep on the floor at their other grandma's so naturally a floor is their bed now), it is the center of all fun these days. In fact, said air mattress had replaced the outdoor trampoline as the weather has turned cooler. Now not only the two year old can jump and bounce and giggle with delight, but so can the almost one year old who follows her every move. So....in the face of funtastic fun, I laid down on the center of said air mattress and was promptly put upon by two adoring kiddies. The little guy in his way, likes to catch me unawares, sneaking up on the mattress, letting out an Ahhhh Haaah!, then throwing his condsiderable baby fat in my direction. Of course poked eyes, scratched face and arms and a sore tummy are apart of any exchange with the lil' devil. The two year old on the other hand, in acrobatic fashion likes to get running headstart, let out a blood curdling scream like; "One, Two, Three, Go! then takes off full blast from a distance and jumps on my belly or more often the family jewels....(Lets just say the family jewels should be locked up and put away for awhile, as they have suffered great damage in the last two years!)  And so after an hour of play everyone was tired, the kids were growing bored, but it was still sometime before beddy bye time. The two year old stood before me, gazing in my direction with big brown eyes, pleading for some type of game I surmised when I came up with an idear."Do you want me to show you a magic trick?" I said softly. She didn't say a word but still standing and gazing. I thought perhaps I had tricked her , but offered up an explanation that I could make her disappear. Why don't you come over here and Grandpa will show you how to disappear?" I asked. Still hesitant, she took one step, stood for a moment then another. Still unsure, I grabbed her and pulled her close tickling her underarms. I knew she thought it was my trick of taking the "Tickle Bug" out of my shirt pocket and tickling her, but I was serious..."I can make you disappear!" I said. "A magic trick!..."I can make you disappear, sort of vanish before my eyes!" "Banish?" She replied. "Yes...Granpa is going to BANISH you, I replied back, laughing to myself at the error of her words. I told my reluctant subject to raise both arms and close her eyes. Now as anyone knows whom has played a trick over and over on a young child, after a while the trust is gone. So it is with the ;"Tickle Bug" trick. She anticipated my move and jerked her arms down to her side, but I promised the "Tickle Bug" had gone for a moment and we were now playing a magic trick. Of course she beleived me...Wouldn't you?  As she raised her arms and closed her eyes, I whipped off a pillowcase and pulled it over her tiny frame. Instantly a delightful giggle came from within a white pillowcase now standing before me. arms somewhat outstretched and looking towards my wife, she blurted out; "Look Grandma, I'm Banished!" Jeez, I thought both the wife and I would crap our Depends it was so doggone funny..! Of course I had to repeat my now famous magic trick over and over again, until she finally tired of it, then we had to do it to her little brother...lets just say he wasn't as delighted in my slight of hand as the granddaughter was. Now tired, I retreated to the comfort of my easy chair, kicked up my feet and thought the kiddies would now leave me alone. Wrong Houdini Breath! The two year old now wanted to show me a magic trick. "Hole your hands up grandpa, close your eyes!" Well, I'm used to takin' orders from the wfie so what the heck...Idid as I was told... Pulling the pillowcase over my head, she told the wife;  "Look grandma, Granpa Banished!"Before I could reply or remove my smothering device a wifely voice wafted through the room. "Let me show you how to tie granpa up with yarn! ;) Ha!
Observations Late last night I listened to an interesting lecture at UC Berkley, by the conservative columinist Michelle Malkin. Her book, "In Defense of Internment: The Case for Racial Profiling in World War II and the War on Terror," was an interesting look into two seperate issues yet conjoined by some on the media and academia. I won't go into the why's and wherefore's for that is your option if your so inclined. (You can read a byte here; Michelle Malkin or her observations here; Michelle Malkins Blog But yet the point of this note, is how places such as UC Berkley and some of the other univerisities around the country are anti-conservative and liberal to no end. Although speaking to a small young Republican group at Berkley, a constant barrage of screams and shouts from about 75 protestors outside, made the speech difficult with interupptions and shouts. But the lovely Malkin didn't give it much thought, saying; "Outside, they're yelling, 'Shame,' " she said. "I think the real shame is that people are too closed minded to actually consider the evidence ... the shame that people here at an institution of higher education and learning don't really understand what a liberal education truly is." And to even make a further point...at an inopurtune time, a corner of an American Flag pinned to the wall behind her fell forward. Some in the audience,...(As there were some whom did not agree with her views), applauded as the Flag fell forward...Now...if that had happened in my day and age, GOD forbid those that cheered, for they would have been burned at the stake...Traitors to the very country that gave you the freedom to express your socialist views!
See Ya-Part Four There seated in the far corner of a booth, was a familar figure. Dressed in his usual slacks, loose shirt and red nerkechief that was always around his neck was someone I had not seen in many years. "Arturo?" I asked softly. Looking up from a cup of coffee held closely in both hands, he looked up at me and acknowledged my presence. Although I had not seen him in many years, his appearance shocked me. His eyes were red, he looked as if he had aged a hundred years and his once steady hands trembled. I asked politely if I could sit down and he motioned me over. He didn't say much at first, so I thought I should be the one to break the ice. "You working at the VA now? I asked. He went on to inform me that he was not working at the VA, but that he just visiting. I thought perhaps he just visiting a friend so left it at that. Soon the conversation turned to work and I asked him how it had been going. I was interested to find out that his business had grown by leaps and bounds and that he was able to put most of his family to work. Not surprised by this I continued on. He asked how my dad was doing, how the building business was and other things work related. Running ran out of coffee midway through our converstation, so I lept up and offered to refresh his cup. He thanked me and upon my return, then let out that he was having some physical ailments. Over the next hour or so, I learned more about this frail little man than I had ever known. His dad had either died or left the family at an early stage, I don't recall which. That left his mother and 13 kids to fend for themselves. Arturo, the eldest of the brood was only thirteen years of age at the time and so he took over responsibility to support the family. He dropped out of school and went to work doing various jobs. Eventually he made it into the building trades and thats where he joined up with us. Even though I and all of us started out on the bottom in the trades, nothing compared to Arturo having to drop out of school at age 13 to support a starving family of 15. Anyhow it was a real eye opener for me to learn why this hard working son of a migrant worker worked so hard his whole life. He was the sole supporter of his entire family. I was happy to learn that he had worked hard, to save enough money to buy his mother a car, and his family a house and had put most of his sisters and brothers to work. Not to mention food on the table, clothes, school tuition and all the rest...I won't go into more detail, for you should have the picture by now. Quite a story of starting with little and living the American dream! I also learned that he had great respect for my dad. He like us had started on the bottom as a laborer, but like pappy had rewarded us with hard work, so had he rewarded Arturo. It was someting unexpected and nice to learn about my dad and he was still apprecitive all those years later. The conversation then turned back to his ailments. I'm sorry that I don't recall what the ailment was, and not even sure he knew at the time. His joints were sore and ached constantly and he had almost lost the ability to use his hands. Not a good thing for such a physical man, but a sad one. His company had suffered due to his illness, but his family was taking over as much as possible. He had some insurance, but not much, therefore the VA thing. I don't ever recall him being in the Military, (As he went to work at age 13), so I'm not sure to this day how he got the VA help. At any rate, he was under there care and had been taking tests and all the rests. And then forgiveness... At one point in our conversation he announced that he had to go...and I also had to return to work. But before I left, I wanted to make a long wanted apology. I brought up the long forgotten tiff in our past. I let him know my background and other things long thought but never mentioned. We talked about the past for some ten more minutes. I apoligized for my behaviour so long ago, and we parted with a handshake, smiles and a pat on each others backs. Misunderstandings, racism and all that hateful stuff of ones youth vanished in a few minutes of humanity.
A few good stories to start off your weekend...;) A wonderful tribute from Mother to Son: My Dearest CJ", by Gigglesbee. A 16 years old tale of humanity: Carebear's "Soccer Mom for a Day" Have a great weekend everyone! ;)
See Ya'-Part Three That is until... Enraged at my agreement with fellow workers whom I really did not agree with, I left the house where we were eating lunch and ran after Arturo. He had run over to dad's old yellow tractor and jumped on board. His chore as usual was to grade around the homes, both rough and finish grade and so there he had gone. I follwed him outside and as he jumped in the seat, I ran over to apologize. Fatal mistake! I guess he thought I was coming after him, so he tossed something at me and I responded my raising my fist as if to strike him. A few words were had, him drivnng off very fast, and I left in a cloud of dust. For weeks on end, no one talked to him or even acknowledged his presence. That is except I. For nights I agonizied over agreement with some people whom I did not agree with, but made my bed jumped in whole hog. And then our little fight outside...well not really a fight but a misunderstanding of my reasons for rushing over. Anyhow weeks passed, probably months. We worked doing our thing, he worked doing his thing, and the two never came to meet. We all managed to do our work, without further confrontations, by distance of course. I don't recall the exact occurance, but seem to recall that we accidentally bumped into each on the job somehow. Still disdainful of me, I greeted him politely then disappeared. Over the course of more weeks, we greeted each other with a hand wave and even spoke a bit, but more a few words of; "Sure hot ain't it, or Watcha doin today?" I think the only thing that brought us back even a tad, was that several times when he looked really beat, I picked up a shovel or a rake and helped him grade...Not much, but a little bit of something. We never did manage to repair the whole thing to my liking and I am sure not to his. Then one day he was gone. Dad stopped by the job, and when asked where Arturo was, he informed us that his mother had died. Of course I was saddened by the news. Two or three days later he showed up at work again, but not the same. You could tell he was strained, that the hours he worked were getting to him along with all the rest. I did manage to convey my condolences and he seemed to appreciate the kindness. Again more months passed, Arturo was working even harder. Then we began not to see him during the day, but late at night. Around 10:30PM one evening after a later night Homebuilders meting, we were headed home. As it happened we had to pass the jobsite on the way. There was Arturo, on the Catepillar tractor, excavating dad's jobsite, only dim yellow lights from the Cat showing his way. I asked dad if he wanted to stop and talk to him but he just waved me on. "That kid is one hard worker," Is all he said to me, as we drove off. ...And then one day he was gone...but for good. I asked dear ol' pappy and he informed me that Arturo had quit to start his own business. I asked dad if he was going to miss him and he just grinned. That was about all I learned. Bu knowing dad as I do today, (I never did really know him..) I bet he lent a helping hand. So....over the course of years, I saw Arturo here and there. An older small flatbed truck that he had overhauled for his business no doubt. Business seemed good. Shovels and rakes and compacters and all sorts of equipment hauled all over town. "Still hard working as ever." I thought. And so it went for some seven or eight years, then... The economy went South in the mid 80's and we were all out of work. One day, unhappy and wanting my own business, I partnered up with a fellow worker to subcontract work on the old VA Hospital on the North side of town. During lunch we would head down to the cafeteria and get a whopping good meal...VA food was the best! One day, my partner (So called partner...one of those guys who wanted the money but didn't want to work for it) and I had a falling out, and I ended the partnership. Needless to say, I ended up finishing the job myself, where I almost got nailed for a daily fine for every day the job wasn't finished...But I made it by the skinny on my hind quarters! (Grin). At lunch time I made my way to the cafeteria where I got my tray, my lunch and my lone spot to contemplate my work. I ate slowly digesting my thoughts, when I spotted a familar, but long lost face.... Yep...You will just have to wait for the conclusion...
See Ya'-Part Two He, He, I forgot I had started a fourteen part series..Just kidden fellow BlueMoon Regular's......;) Here now the complete and unfiltered truth of Part Two! OK, where were we...? I completely forgot where I was headed with this story...Oh yeah....People who are lazy...! Soooo...as life went on, I like many others found my family to be hard working, industrial and not caring one iota for those who didn't put n the same effort. My uncle on dad's side was perhaps the one with little sympathy for an excuse and he would tell you so in not so many words...Direct, truthful and either do what I tell you or else...He was the same way in hunting and fishing, just his way of course...his way or the highway. Dad was similarly the same, but a bit more mellow in his approach. If you were not working hard enough or getting the job done, he would let you know, but perhaps a day or two later...He was really good at building his case before he blew his stack vs Uncle Bob whom had a very short fuse...(For some reason, I think I inherited the laters fuse)! So again, two very hard working,. hard charging guys, who worked hard and played harder., although not enough for several kids whom missed those youngest of days. The basic tenat of their work, was work till you get the job done! If eight hours did it fine, you were done, if not, you stayed until the job was completed. Everyone knew the rules but not everyone followed them..Anyway I have lots of stories in this area, but will relegate myself to a few so I can move on.. As dear old dad's construction company grew so did his crew. I remember a time when he hired two more guys, one a foreman the other a carpenter laborer. It was during the summer and for the most part it worked well. I ran one crew and Ben ran the other one. Until winter was upon us. One day dear old daddy let me know he wasn't too pleased with the other crew. Not having to ask, he had me watch them closely, a sort of spy game early mornings and afternoons...Seems these two would show up an hour late and take off work an hour early...Soooo for almost a week I watched and recorded times of arrival and departure. When the evidence was in hand, he had me follow him to the job where I had to promptly present the evidence and fire both of them on the spot. Not something I relished doing then, as it was my first time. But...a good lesson in that if someone is screwing you royal screw them back just as hard. Needless to say the two tried to talk their way out of killing time, that is until, the records of their deception were revealed. Lets jump ahead a few years... I'm going to go off on a bit of a tangent here, as an interesting story has come to mind....So please bear with me. Perhaps it will inspire someone...(I see Carebear has at a young age, already experianced the feeling...but perhaps some of you as well..) A lesson in humanity. And then one day, ol' pappy hired a Mexican...Nothing at all wrong the idear, as it was his company and he could hire who he wanted, but the thing was the times, the perceptions and all the silly stuff that we now look back on with disdain...Its a hard one to explain, but this area I live in was basically all white for many, many years. Then the migrant workers, who I might add make this Ag Economy fly, then some Black football players at the local once all white university. Nothing wrong mind you, just the area, the old mindset of the times and the false things learned from years of racisim and all sorts of unjust and ugly thoughts and sayings one says and does without giving it much thought.. Anyway enough of this shit, but you get the idea...Basically a white community that grew slowly, then a sudden spurt with all growth brings and then the anger that spews forth with growth people form other countries that may conflict with ones beliefs, or false impressions. Well anyway, so dad hired this Mexican kid. A nice kid, but neither my brother-in-law nor I, whom both worked for dear ol' pappy for many years, did not socialize with the guy. You know why of course, the perceptions, nothing in common and on and on...And so it went...we did our work he did his, we white boys ate our lunch in one spot and he ate alone...Not a friendly atmosphere if you catch my drift. I of course always greeted the new kid on the block in the AM, tried to converse with him on occassion. He was aloof most of the time and seemed not very friendly, but the kid worked his butt off. So a year went by then two, about the same. But as time flew the harder the poor kid worked. He would be working before light when we showed up for work, even skip lunch, then work long after we had disappeared to our comfortable home. We had both even complained to dad, that the kid was working early and late, and wondered perhaps if the kid was using dad's equipment on other jobs. But pappy informed us in a few words that he had authorized the kid to work early and late hours... Of course jealously slipped in. We the privileged two,who had lots of work, fair pay, houses and families....but thinking this kid was getting money that we deserved more. You know...the jealous thought syndrome... OK, but anyway...I never used to be like that, even in a younger age. It was only then, only those two years....Why you ask? Well the brother-in-law is a good one to blame...A good Baptist or so he claims to this day...(One thing I can't stand are people whom claim to be religious but then cannot forgive someone for a deed, or discredit others, or talk behind their backs...that sort of thing...). The whole thing started with my BLaw, bad mouthing this kid..I can't recall exactly the conversations with some of the fellow workers but it involved the Mexicans and "Foreigners," coming into "OUR" country...Thats a LAUGH right?...I thought the NATIVE AMERICANS owned this place first....(I still get a kick out of my mother who calls her family Native Californians)!, and not Indian blood anywhere close! So anyway the conversation went on that day, I just listening. Not something that I took pleasure in, but something that I did not tear myself away from either. Anywho the poor kid walked in as the disparaging remarks were going around, just as someone asked me if I agreed with their assessment and I, stupidly nodding my head...Well...in that moment, what little friendship I had with the kid was gone and he never talked to me again...That is until.... Part Three...Coming...
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