7 STAND UP AND BE COUNTED!

When we lived in Old Shasta, California there was a bully named Billy, who moved in across the dirt road from us. For some unknown reason he liked to pick on everyone, especially me. Once he swung his metal lunch bucket at me and hit me in the forehead. I received a nice cut that bled freely for several minutes.

One day on the way home from school, Billy was his usual obnoxious self, and feeling his oats. He approached me and announced, "I'm tougher than you are!" I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Okay." I then continued to walk towards home. Billy ran after me and said, "I can beat you up. Watch!" He then slugged me in the jaw. I did not want to fight so continued to walk towards home. Billy ran after me and again slugged me in the jaw. This continued most of the way home with Billy bragging and slugging, and me hurting and counting.
Finally, about 30 yards from our home and after 26 hits on the jaw, I lost my temper! By this time about 15 neighborhood kids had gathered around, including my sister, Marilyn. Now Marilyn was four years older than I was and kind of a mother figure. At least she bossed me around alot. She enthusiastically encouraged me to, "Teach ole Billy a lesson!"

Being the obedient brother that I am, I waded into Billy and we began to slug it out. Billy would come at me with his head down, swinging both hands like windmills. Since I was a little taller than Billy, when I stood up tall and I had a little longer arms, it only seemed natural in my defense to do what I did next. I reached over Billy's bent over body and grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head. Then I began to hit him back while he was trying to uncover his head. This routine happened several times amidst the cheers and hollering of the neighborhood crowd. Billy kept calling me a "no good yellow-bellied coward!"

When the dust cleared I had a bloody nose and a black eye. Billy on the other hand, had a bloody nose and two black eyes. My sister immediately stepped forward and declared her brother the undisputed champion and began to lead me home. I was so angry that I wanted to keep fighting and to really teach Billy a lesson. My sister kept pulling me away, so in frustration, I laid down on the ground and refused to go any further.

Marilyn grabbed my arm and drug me home; announcing to everyone that the boy she was dragging home was as tough as nails and the champ of the neighborhood. My mother was in shock when she saw my bloody face. Marilyn quickly gave a blow by blow account of how her brother had taught the bully, Billy a lesson that he would never forget! Much to my surprise I did not get a spanking for fighting and better yet, Billy never bothered me again.

LESSON LEARNED
Please do not misunderstand. I am not suggesting that we fight our way through life. I'm all for turning the other cheek, or jaw, and avoiding confrontations. Most of the time we just need to "walk on home." However, there are times when it is best to stand up for ourselves and be counted; to stand up for our families, our religion and our country and for what is right and decent in this world. And . . . it doesn't hurt to have a Marilyn around to back you up once in awhile.

6 STILTS

Many of us men, when growing up, couldn't grow up fast enough. I mean, all of my friends and I wanted to be "taller." I remember measuring myself on a wooden door frame about once a week, to see what progress I was making.
One day when I was about eleven years old, we got the idea of building stilts so we could walk around a few feet higher off the ground. We found a neighbor kid who's dad had made him a pair of stilts and we all tried them out.

When I got home, I decided that I would make my very own pair of stilts. They would be taller than anyone else's and everyone would say, "Wow! Look at Ken's stilts. Look how tall he is. He is so neat!"

I don't even know where we got the lumber, but for some reason we had a pile of wood in our back yard. It was probably brought home by my step-father for our wood stove. Fortunately there were two 6 foot, 2X2's in the pile and some short pieces of 2X4 for foot rests.

I measured up a little over 3 feet from the bottom and marked the long poles. I then took the short pieces of 2X4 and cut a triangle foot piece for each stilt. The foot pieces were flat of the top and angled on the bottom for better nailing. From trying out my neighbor friend's stilts, I had learned that it was sometimes hard to keep one's feet on the footrests. When your foot slipped off the footrest, you fell off everything.

To solve the problem, I decided to make straps that would hold my feet on the footrests. I found an old inner tube and cut some straps from the thick part of the tube. These I nailed to the footrests with enough room for my feet to slip in and out.

With a little sandpaper, I smoothed off the 2X2's where I would be holding my stilts as I walked. Usually it is best to lean against a tree or wall to climb into a pair of stilts. Then you can push off and begin balancing and walking.

I was a little nervous about walking with straps because if one falls forward it is hard to get your feet out of the straps so you can catch yourself. Being an ingenious young man, and being alone, so no one could see me, I decided to drag an old mattress from off the porch and lay it on the ground in front of me. I reasoned that if I fell I would land on the mattress instead of the ground.

With great anticipation and excitement I climbed into my new stilts. My intention was to get my balance, step up on the mattress, walk over it and begin walking around the yard. To get out of a pair of stilts it is always best to lean back and step out backwards. My heart was pounding as I stepped forward, caught the edge of the mattress with the bottom of the stilt and fell helplessly forward and flat on my face with my feet firmly stuck in the straps of the footrests.

I only bounced once or twice. I thought, "Well, at least the straps work." Fortunately it did not hurt . . . too much. As any eleven year old "stilts commander" would do, I got up, brushed myself off and moved the mattress back on the porch.

After several tries of not leaning forward too much, I began to get the hang of it. Soon I was walking all over the neighborhood. It was fun walking across small streams and through mud puddles without getting wet. I did, however, learn to watch out for gopher holes. It is awkward when one of your stilts sinks a foot or so straight down into a gopher hole. All of my friends were impressed with my "tall" stilts and soon everyone copied my idea.

LESSON LEARNED

Learning to walk on stilts taught me a good lesson. If we want to go around the neighborhood and appear taller and have others look up to us, we should just be a good friend and help others have fun also. All of us grew taller anyway as we got older and we didn't need those stilts to have people look up to us.

Also those who try hard, never give up and share with others have the most fun.

5 Post Office

Old Shasta had a grade school, two country stores and quite a few homes. There was also a small church next to the elementary school where some classes were held during the week. Church was held on Sundays, but I only remember attending once.

We lived in an old, two bedroom, brick home. The home was located just above a small creek where we use to gather water cress for tossed salads. Many experiences happened in Old Shasta.

There were twin girls name Rose and Mary who lived next door to us. They were my age and I fell madly in love with both of them. One day when everyone was gone, except for my sister Marilyn and I the twins had come over and Marilyn asked if we would like to play a game. We all said that we would like to, but did not know what game to play.

Marilyn suggested "Post Office." We did not know how to play Post Office. Marilyn, who was four years older than we were, said that she knew how to play and would teach us. I was sent to the bedroom to wait.

As I sat on the bed, I heard a knock at the door. I said, "Come in." The door opened and in walked Mary with a smile on her face. She closed the door and announced, "I am the Mailman. I have a letter for you." I looked around and said, "Where is it?" Mary said, "You have to close your eyes and keep them closed."

I closed my eyes and held out my hand. Then to my surprise, Mary kissed me on the lips. "Hey! What are you doing?" I exclaimed. "That's the letter,"she giggled, "Well . . . do you have anymore?" "No." She then retreated out through the door.

I sat stunned and well pleased at such a fine game, when suddenly, I heard another knock at the door. I sprang to my feet and opening the door, I saw Rose standing with her hands clasped behind her back. A mischievous smile lit up her face. "I have a letter for you." "Come in, come in," I requested enthusiastically.

She came in and shut the door. I closed my eyes and mumbled, "Uh, I'm ready for the letter." Rose quickly kissed me on the lips and headed for the door. As she closed the door, I yelled after her, "please write again."

Pleasant thoughts raced through my mind and I decided that I had never played such a delightful game or ever received such wonderful letters. The game continued for about a half hour and I received many thrilling letters! I was 9 years old and in heaven; then my parents came home!

The twins ran out of the back door and across the fence to their house. Then Marilyn, much to my surprise, ran out to mom and dad and boldly announced, "Kenny has been kissing girls in the bedroom!"

All of my efforts to explain that it was my sister's idea, were in vain and I received a severe whipping for doing such a wicked thing. The memory of the letters (kisses) far out weighed the punishment and I counted the day, as a whole, one of my most enjoyable experiences and well worth living. I will add here that we never played Post Office again; much to my disappointment.

Lesson Learned

One can endure a lot of trials in life if he or she will just remember the good times and keep things in perspective. (Proverbs 15:13 "A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance....")

4 The Bridge

Not far from our home in Old Shasta, California, was a section of an old back road that was seldom used by automobiles. My sister Marilyn, my brother Richard and several neighborhood friends and I, often went there. It was a good place to play. Along this old road was a cement bridge that spanned a small creek that meandered slowly down the mountain.

The creek had several really neat swimming holes near the bridge. In the heat of the summer time several of us children would go swimming there two or three times every week.

On one particular day, Marilyn, Richard and I, along with two or three other kids, decided to "cool off" in the old swimming hole.

As we approached the bridge on the road, we were curious to see how much water was in the creek and if our swimming pool was deep enough for us to swim in. We looked over the side of the bridge and down at the creek. My brother Richard, who is four years younger than I am, and a lot shorter at that time in our lives, wasn't tall enough to see over the side of the bridge.

Using his natural five year old, creative imagination, he stuck his head through one of the narrow openings in the side of the bridge. His head just fit through the opening and he could see the water below. However, as he tried to pull his head back out of the bridge opening, his ears caught on both sides and he was stuck!

I don't know if my brother had visions of being stuck in that bridge for the rest of his life or if he was just afraid that we were going to leave him. Whatever went through his mind caused a blood curdling scream that shattered the peaceful mountain air and sent a chill through me that I shall never forget. There was always the threat of rattlesnakes and we were always cautioned to be on the lookout for them. For a second or two I thought a rattlesnake had bitten my brother.

Then I saw him kicking and squirming and pulling to get his head free. He looked so funny that I began to laugh. My sister, who is a few years older than I am, gave me a dirty look and then calmly reached over the edge of the bridge and flattened Richard's ears to his head and had him slowly extract his head from the immovable bridge.

Within a second or two Richard went from a doomed life to one of freedom. His crying stopped, we all laughed and then proceeded to the swimming hole to cool ourselves off. Richard never stuck his head through the hole in a bridge from that time on.

Lesson Learned

I have reflected back on that experience several times in my life. In my mind's eye, I could see this small skeleton lying there on the bridge with it's head stuck in the cement opening.

Then I have thought about my brother's ears. Sometimes all of us stick our heads into cement bridges. We say the wrong thing or we do the wrong thing or we get ourselves into a situation that is painful and frightening. Sometimes it is just a matter of folding our ears back and removing ourselves from the problem. Many times, like my brother, we are so emotionally involved that it takes someone else to see our situation and gently help us do what is necessary to free us from the stupid predicament that we, unthinkingly, got ourselves into. It is always good to seek the advise and help and expertise from someone who knows what to do. God bless all of the Marilyns in our lives.

3 THE SLING

On another occasion, in Old Shasta, a new "craze" swept through our community. At church we had learned the story of David and Goliath. Soon every boy in town, as well as some of the girls, were making slings so they could be like David.
I was never one to think small. My step-father had shown my brother and I how to make sling shots out of rubber tubes and manzanita crotches. A manzanita sling shot was the Cadillac of sling shots. There always seemed to be plenty of old rubber tubes around and plenty of old leather shoes to contruct our "weapons of war."

However, a sling shot is not the same thing as a "sling." Yep, the sling that David used was the ultimate of all slings.

This is a sling shot . This is the kind of sling David used.
It is very powerful and strong.

One day a friend of mine and I decided to make a "giant"sling. One that would shoot, not just small rocks, but boulders. We found a large old tire tube and cut 3 inch rubber strips that were about 3 feet long. We cut a huge piece of leather from the tongue of an old shoe to make a pouch to hold our rocks. Then we tied it all together. On the end where we held the rubber strands, we wrapped these with some string and tape so as to give us a good grip.
There was no place close to our homes where we felt like we had room to try out this weapon of all weapons. With the excitement that only a couple of 5th grade inventors can generate, we decided to take our experiment to the school yard.

The schoolhouse was located on a very large rectangular lot. There was also a small community church on the East end of the lot. Both buildings were situated on the back side of the lot next to a dirt street.

We walked out onto the play grounds. There was no cement or asphalt. The play ground was also dirt and rocks."Rocks!" That's what we were looking for! We tried out our sling with a few small rocks and were amazed at how far they flew through the air. The rubber straps stretched and had a springing action to them.

We had lined ourselves up to launch our rocks the long way of the play grounds. We were giggling and joking around and feeling very successful and important. It was then that I spied "the rock!" As my eyes rested upon it, my heart skipped a beat and images of a great warrior flashed through my imagination. With nervous anticipation I reached down and carefully lifted "the rock" from it's resting place.

I remember wiping the dirt from this rock, off onto my levi strauss jeans. As I wiped off the red dirt, the rock revealed it's white smoothe, rounded surface. I estimated it to weigh about a half pound. "It was perfect!"

"Let me have the sling," I commanded. My request was low and powerful. My friend handed the sling to me and moved behind me and squatted down. I place "the rock" into the pouch and folded the leather around it. I could not contain my smile and it just seemed to force itself over my entire face, from ear to ear. I wrapped the loose ends of the sling around my finers in just the right way and prepared to launch "the rock."

As young boys, we did not know the proper way to "sling" a rock and just swung the sling over our heads in a windmill fashion. This was the method that I used on that memorable day. Around and around the sling went. The faster I swung it the more the sling whirled above my head at a tremendous speed with a noise of "swoosh," "swoosh," "swoosh."

I aimed and fired! I espected the large rock to go flying straight down to the other end of the play grounds, but . . . this rock had a mind of it's own. Instead of going straight, the rock flew off to my left. I looked over just in time to see the mother of all rocks, sail off the play grounds, up towards the main Highway and slam into the door of a passing automobile. "KAWOOMB!"

The sound was deafening as "the rock" stuck in the door, making a large hole. Now. . . no one needs to tell two nine year old boys when they are in trouble! With visions of spending the rest of our lives behind bars, we took off for the bushes as fast as our trembling legs would carry us. The car weaved and came to a screeching halt. A man jumped out and was yelling words that were new to me as we disappeared into the manzanita bushes. We didn't stop until we reached home.

I personally spent the rest of the day expecting the police to show up any minute. No one ever came by and my friend and I never told anyone else. We avoided being seen along the main Highway through town for several weeks. We thought the man was waiting for us behind some building or telephone pole or bush.

LESSON LEARNED

As I look back on that experience, I learned that when one plays with dangerous toys, one should first learn how to use them in a safe way.

2 Little Tarzans

When I was in the 5th grade, we lived in the town of Old Shasta in California. Old Shasta was a very small town with lots of mountains, meadows, small creeks, oak trees and manzanita bushes.

It was a Paradise for young boys who had a little imagination. There was one particular creek that trickled slowly down a small mountain towards the main road that ran through the center of town.

Along the creek were some very large trees. Wild grape vines were growing all over these trees. The vines evidently had been growing there for a very long time, because there were many long vines hanging down from up near the tops of the trees.

One of our heroes at that time was a muscle bound strong man named Tarzan. Every boy that I knew wanted to be like Tarzan and live in the jungle. We practiced the Tarzan yell and beat our chests daily. When alone, I would talk to the animals in my life; a cat, a dog, a pig and three weird looking chickens. None of them ever answered back with anything that I could interpret, but I imagined that some day I would be able to speak cat, dog, pig and chicken and maybe a little elephant. Mom alread said we acted like monkeys.

A few of us would go to the creek a couple of times a week and swing across using the long hanging grape vines. As we flew through the air we would give the best Tarzan yell that we could produce. It was fun and exciting and took our minds off the problems of the day.

Lesson Learned

I learned that all of us need heroes to imitate in our lives. The wise thing to do is to choose heroes that are "good" people and who inspire us to do our best and to be kind and friendly to those around us. I have had many heroes in my life time. My greatest hero is my brother, Jesus Christ.

However, once in awhile as I am driving down the Freeway alone, I let forth with a tarzan yell that would make even the monkeys of the world feel at home. And then I remember how much fun it was to be a kid . . . in Old Shasta, California.

1 Leaving Home . . . Too Early

When I was about three years old, my mother and father got a divorce. My sister, Marilyn, and I were sent to live with a family named Griffy.

They were an older couple and had one daughter, who was about twenty. A number of events happened at the Griffy's which are memorable to me. The Griffy family had a number of goats and chickens. One of the things that Marilyn and I enjoyed doing the most was to go down to the barn and gather eggs and then ride the goats around the corral. I always thought God made goats for riding because they have such neat horns to hang on to.

It was at the Griffy's that I first learned about humming birds. One day the old cat caught a humming bird. I caught the cat, pried open it's mouth and let the bird go. The bird was happy, but the old cat didn't like me much.

I ran away twice while at the Griffy's. There was another boy who was a few years older than I was, who also stayed with the Griffys. One time we decided to run away and go on a journey. I did not know what a journey was, but it sounded very intriguing and so I was very anxious to go. The boy, Jim, told me that I would learn what a journey was and about 4:00 p.m. one day we took off into the woods.

We traveled for quite some time; at least for a three year old. Jim was eight and a self proclaimed man of the world. At least that is what he told me. I kept looking for the journey, but hadn't seen one, when Jim brought our caravan of two to a halt. We decided that since it was getting dark, we should travel back to the house and raid the cellar for something to eat. I thought this was a wonderful idea since we had not had any supper. I asked Jim if we would find the journey that night, and he finally told me what journey meant.

Not being trained at West Point, we were not too sharp on our tactical maneuvering as we approached the house. What I am saying is we were too noisy and the Griffys were waiting for us when we arrived at the house. It seems that could hear us coming about a hundred yards away. We were punished and put to bed; after supper, thank goodness.

We hung pretty close to the house for awhile until one night. Jim and I had gone to bed out on the back porch. Through the window we could see Marilyn and Mrs. Griffy doing the dishes.

When I was nearly asleep Jim came up with a brilliant idea. We would run away and go to Redding; steal an airplane and fly to a small logging town named Burney. We didn't realize that you have to have a license to fly so we sneaked out the back door in our pajamas and took off.

We didn't want to walk the several miles to town so we borrowed my sister's tricycle. That is all that I remembered until we got to Redding.

How we got there or how long it took I do not remember. The next thing I knew, we were being picked up by two policemen in a big car with a flashing light. We would have made a getaway, but the wheel on the tricycle broke and we didn't want to leave it behind. On the way to the police station, I watched a moth crawl around on the back of one of the policeman's head. This was quite interesting to me, but my main concern was how I was going to like being in jail for the rest of my life.

When we got to the police station we had ice cream and a long wait. I was just getting to like the place when the Griffys showed up. It is a good thing the tricycle wheel broke and we were picked up. It frightens me to think of what might have happened if we had reached the airport; especially since neither of us had taken flying lessons.

When we arrived home Jim got a spanking. I got bread and milk, and of course, Marilyn never forgave us for breaking her tricycle. We never did run away again. Jim just didn't want to for some reason. I later wrote the following poem about our experience.

A Lad Of Three

"I'd like to tell you a little tale about a lad of three.

He was a very good boy you know, because the boy was me.

There was another involved, who went by the name of Jim.

Ya see, all the trouble we got into that night was because of him."

"We borrowed my sister's tricycle, an act that was not right,

and dressed in our stripped P.J.'s rode off into the night.

To Redding town we headed; an airplane we would steal;

then on to Burney we would fly; was the friendly deal."

"The serious plan was near fulfilled. By then it was no joke.

One mile from the airport the stupid tricycle wheel broke.

The night was black and scary; our speed we did increase

and just about made it, when we were captured by the police."

"To the station they did take us; two frightened little boys.

The sirens on the police car sure made a lot of noise

A phone call to our parents and our escapade was over,

when we reached home, it was anything but 'clover.'"

"Sore bottoms we did get, which made us very sad,

and my poor sister's tricycle, well . . . my sister still is mad."

Lesson Learned

Sometimes it is better not to be led into mischief by one's peers. There is a time in life to strike out on your own, but hopefully not too soon; especially not at age three. It is kind of fun just to be a kid for awhile . . . and maybe ride a few goats.

Why This Blog

Life teaches us many lessons. I have compiled a few of the lessons that I have learned from the experiences that I have had in life. I feel like it would be fun to share some of these lessons with other people in hopes that the loads we all carry may become a little lighter. I am going to list some of experiences and stories and lessons that will be forth coming. This list is about half of what I have at the present time and I will add to the list as I go along.

"Life really begins when one discovers the moving, stimulating, joy of learning."

"There is a part of the soul that is elevated and illuminated

when we find joy in the hard and long process of learning."

1. Leaving Home. . . Too Early
2. Little Tarzans
3. The Sling
4. The Bridge
5. Post Office
6. Stilts
7. Stand Up And Be Counted
8. Chickens Can't Swim
9. A Different Perspective
10. The Upset Crawdad
11. Why Frogs Don't Smoke
12. Bee....Attitudes
13. More Bees
14. Listen To Father
15.Childhood Treats
16. Lift Up Your Rudder!