Maybe you've read a previous post about me wanting to be a conservationist. When I started my college career I was studying biology and science and on a course of study that would allow me to be a conservationist. But life has its turns and life took me in another direction. But I never gave up on the dream.
Aerosmith has a song I called to mind the other day entitled Dream On. One of the key lines in the song says "Dream until your dream comes true."
Well, after 49 years, one of my dreams is about to come true. I am enrolled in the Missouri Master Naturalist program sponsored by the Missouri Department of Conservation and the University of Missouri Extension department. This program is an adult community-based natural resource education and volunteer service program. The mission of the program is to engage Missourians in the stewardship of our state's natural resources through science-based education and volunteer community service.
I will receive a minimum of 40 hours classroom training coupled with 10 hours in the field. I will also devote an additional 10 hours of work to a community service project of my choosing. Classroom study includes ecology, prairie restoration, monitoring water quality in streams and rivers, native plant identification, and bird identification, etc. There are many other subjects covered in class too numerous to mention.
Once I've become a certified Master Naturalist I will have to do an additional 40 hours classroom and 10 hours field work each year to maintain certification.
I've had a couple of other dreams over the years.
One of them is to hike in the Grand Canyon. Sandy and I have a trip planned to go to the Grand Canyon for our 20th wedding anniversary this coming May and hike in the canyon. So if the good Lord is willing and the creek don't rise, I think that dream will come true.
I have another dream of going to Alaska before I die or am too old to enjoy it. No trip plans as yet.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said: "I have a dream." And it was a big dream. I have a big dream too.
My big dream is that my 4 sons would get together someplace, visit with each other, enjoy each other, and get to know each other better. And, o yow, that they would do it before I go on to the spirit world and that they would invite me to be there with them.
So don't give up on your dreams. It may take years and years for some of them to be fulfilled .... like maybe 49! Hope yours won't take that long.
One final thought as of this writing: "Dream until your dream comes true." (Aerosmith)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
1943 ... The Best of Times !
I'm getting older than I feel. My chronological age far outweighs my mental age. Here are some of the things that were happening in 1943 when I was born, some 66 years ago. First and foremost, none of you were born yet! Life did go on before you arrived on planet earth.
Some interesting (maybe just to me) things include: Angelo Bertelli won the Heisman Trophy at the University of Notre Dame. The Chicago Bears won the championship of the National Football League (Pre-Super Bowl days). The Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup for professional hockey. The University of Wyoming won the NCAA men's basketball championship. The Yankees won the World Series of baseball (no surprise).
The average income of an American household was $2,041; a new car cost $900 (don't know what manufacture); a new house cost $3600 (don't know the sq. footage); a loaf of bread sold for 10 cents; a gallon of regular gas cost 15 cents; a gallon of milk was 62 cents; gold sold for $35 per ounce; silver sold for 71 cents per ounce; and the DOW Jones Average hit a high of 134 points.
The President of the United States was Franklin Roosevelt. The life expectancy was 62.9 years (so I've outlived that expectancy by now, I'm 66).
Joe Namath, the football player from the University of Alabama and later pro player for the N.Y. Jets was born on May 31. Chevy Chase the comedic entertainer was born October 8. Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones was born on July 26. There were 11 others but I doubt you would recognize their names.
Nostalgia news reports include that 150,000 German Troops surrender in North Africa. The German Army surrenders at Stalingrad. Mussolini deposed and Italy surrenders to General Eisenhower, Japan withdraws all troops from Guadalcanal, and The Pentagon completed the worlds largest office building at a completed cost of $64 million dollars (a huge some in that day and time).
Roosevelt calls for a $100 Billion Dollar Military Budget (I think the current budget proposal for 2010 and 2011 is over 3 Trillion dollars with $850-900 billion going to the defense department).
Canned food and shoes were rationed in the U.S. The Jefferson Memorial was dedicated in Washington, D.C. The War Department issued a directive that said no hard liquor for Army personnel. General Dwight D. Eisenhower is named Supreme Commander of the European Forces. One of the most important things a soldier could carry into battle was a box of band-aids.
The best motion picture of the year was Casablanca. The biggest musical hit for the time was a musical named Oklahoma.
A major invention of the year was the drug LSD. It became a hit with many young people in the 1960's and 1970's. (From a song: I took a trip and never left the farm ... even though I think those words were related to sitting on a sack of marijuana seeds.)
Camel and Lucky Strikes were the most popular cigarettes costing 7 cents per pack.
A few more tidbits. No one in my home town had a television. Few had radios. Most read newspapers to get their news from around the country and around the world. It was 1958 before the first television arrived in Oak Grove. Jasper Scott purchased a 7" rectangular black and white television. He was the talk of the town and he was sitting in tall cotton. My family didn't get a TV until I was a junior in High School. I had no transistor radio (equivalent to an ipod these days.) Video games did not exist. Child care centers and kindergarten classes were to be found only in the big cities. I went to the 1st grade when I was 5 years old. No stereo, it was all mono, no CD's or DVD's, but we did have 331/3 rpm albums, 78 rpm albums, and 45 rpm discs. None of them were very portable to lug around. They were flimsly plastic and scratched easily.
But ... I grew up in the best of times. We rode our bikes all over town and never feared of getting molested or kidnapped. We weren't frustrated with so many choices of things to have and buy. If you got one present at Christmas time you were lucky. I knew kids in my home town that didn't get any present. We didn't have 300 cereals to choose from. We had Kool-Aid and that was about it. We had Coke, Pepsi, 7-Up and Root Beer. Maybe 3-4 varieties of snack cakes like Twinkies. The cookie section at the grocery store took up about 2 sections of shelves on an aisle. Pet food was even less of a selection. You could bring home 2-3 sacks full of groceries for $5-$7, meat included.
No computers, no smart phones, no iPhones, no Blackberrys, no i-pods. We just played with each other out in the front or back yard and entertained ourselves.
Ahhhhhhh ..... those were the best of times!
Some interesting (maybe just to me) things include: Angelo Bertelli won the Heisman Trophy at the University of Notre Dame. The Chicago Bears won the championship of the National Football League (Pre-Super Bowl days). The Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup for professional hockey. The University of Wyoming won the NCAA men's basketball championship. The Yankees won the World Series of baseball (no surprise).
The average income of an American household was $2,041; a new car cost $900 (don't know what manufacture); a new house cost $3600 (don't know the sq. footage); a loaf of bread sold for 10 cents; a gallon of regular gas cost 15 cents; a gallon of milk was 62 cents; gold sold for $35 per ounce; silver sold for 71 cents per ounce; and the DOW Jones Average hit a high of 134 points.
The President of the United States was Franklin Roosevelt. The life expectancy was 62.9 years (so I've outlived that expectancy by now, I'm 66).
Joe Namath, the football player from the University of Alabama and later pro player for the N.Y. Jets was born on May 31. Chevy Chase the comedic entertainer was born October 8. Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones was born on July 26. There were 11 others but I doubt you would recognize their names.
Nostalgia news reports include that 150,000 German Troops surrender in North Africa. The German Army surrenders at Stalingrad. Mussolini deposed and Italy surrenders to General Eisenhower, Japan withdraws all troops from Guadalcanal, and The Pentagon completed the worlds largest office building at a completed cost of $64 million dollars (a huge some in that day and time).
Roosevelt calls for a $100 Billion Dollar Military Budget (I think the current budget proposal for 2010 and 2011 is over 3 Trillion dollars with $850-900 billion going to the defense department).
Canned food and shoes were rationed in the U.S. The Jefferson Memorial was dedicated in Washington, D.C. The War Department issued a directive that said no hard liquor for Army personnel. General Dwight D. Eisenhower is named Supreme Commander of the European Forces. One of the most important things a soldier could carry into battle was a box of band-aids.
The best motion picture of the year was Casablanca. The biggest musical hit for the time was a musical named Oklahoma.
A major invention of the year was the drug LSD. It became a hit with many young people in the 1960's and 1970's. (From a song: I took a trip and never left the farm ... even though I think those words were related to sitting on a sack of marijuana seeds.)
Camel and Lucky Strikes were the most popular cigarettes costing 7 cents per pack.
A few more tidbits. No one in my home town had a television. Few had radios. Most read newspapers to get their news from around the country and around the world. It was 1958 before the first television arrived in Oak Grove. Jasper Scott purchased a 7" rectangular black and white television. He was the talk of the town and he was sitting in tall cotton. My family didn't get a TV until I was a junior in High School. I had no transistor radio (equivalent to an ipod these days.) Video games did not exist. Child care centers and kindergarten classes were to be found only in the big cities. I went to the 1st grade when I was 5 years old. No stereo, it was all mono, no CD's or DVD's, but we did have 331/3 rpm albums, 78 rpm albums, and 45 rpm discs. None of them were very portable to lug around. They were flimsly plastic and scratched easily.
But ... I grew up in the best of times. We rode our bikes all over town and never feared of getting molested or kidnapped. We weren't frustrated with so many choices of things to have and buy. If you got one present at Christmas time you were lucky. I knew kids in my home town that didn't get any present. We didn't have 300 cereals to choose from. We had Kool-Aid and that was about it. We had Coke, Pepsi, 7-Up and Root Beer. Maybe 3-4 varieties of snack cakes like Twinkies. The cookie section at the grocery store took up about 2 sections of shelves on an aisle. Pet food was even less of a selection. You could bring home 2-3 sacks full of groceries for $5-$7, meat included.
No computers, no smart phones, no iPhones, no Blackberrys, no i-pods. We just played with each other out in the front or back yard and entertained ourselves.
Ahhhhhhh ..... those were the best of times!
Friday, December 4, 2009
Stained Forever
I was just a kid about 9-10 years old. We went to Sears-Roebucks up in Kansas City (that's what Sears was called way back when) to buy some clothes etc. We always went to the sales floor to look at the items we were interested in and then went to the catalog order desk and placed our order because the items were less expensive at the catalog desk. Of course you had to wait and wait and wait and wait and wait to get your order processed. But hey, my dad
thought it was worth the wait to save a dollar. So we did ... we waited.
My parents let me buy a new pair of white high-top Converse basketball shoes. We didn't call them sneakers back then. We either called them basketball shoes or tennis shoes ... not sneakers! Anyway, when I tried them on at the shoe department, I could jump at least a foot to a foot and a half higher (I thought) with them on. They were super. I couldn't wait to go out for the basketball team because now I thought I could get up around close to the rim ... NOT ! I was proud of my new basketball shoes ... I was standing tall ... I was sitting in deep cotton ... I thought I was "hot stuff" because I had a new pair of shoes.
On the way home my dad always liked to stop at an old-fashioned Dairy Dip for some ice cream. It was located on the corner of 40 Highway and Noland Road in Independence. I liked to stop there too.
We all got our favorite dairy treat and then headed home in the truck ... Dad driving, mom in the middle, and me riding shotgun. It was chilly and windy so we had the windows barely cracked in the truck for some much needed fresh air.
Back in the day before the awareness of keeping the roadside environment clean by not throwing trash out the window, most everyone just threw their car trash out the window of their vehicle and littered the side of the roadway. Well were no different than anyone else. We thru our fair amount out the window too.
I remember I was sitting in the seat looking at my new white basketball shoes while riding down the road. I sat them on my lap and was admiring them. This was the first time I remember getting any new shoes ... I'm sure I had some before but I don't remember. I finished my dairy treat, rolled down the window and threw my cup out the window and then rolled the window back up. Mom, sitting next to me, almost finished her dairy treat, didn't want any more of it, and promptly threw the remains out of what she thought was a rolled down window. It wasn't. The window was rolled up. So, all of her left-over purple colored raspberry syrup fell into my lap all over my new white basketball shoes. Man, what a deal! I was horrified and heartbroken! My new shoes were ruined. Now I could never jump high again! My mom was horrified too and very apologetic. Dad was just pissed off because the juice had gotten on the window and the door panel and now he was gonna have to clean it up.
Well ... mom tried and tried and tried to get the stain off my shoes but nothing worked. I had to wear them to school with big purple stains on them ... and they were brand spanking new! Mom felt terrible and said she was sorry, sorry, sorry that she had ruined them. I forgave her because I knew it was an accident, but my shoes were "stained forever."
thought it was worth the wait to save a dollar. So we did ... we waited.
My parents let me buy a new pair of white high-top Converse basketball shoes. We didn't call them sneakers back then. We either called them basketball shoes or tennis shoes ... not sneakers! Anyway, when I tried them on at the shoe department, I could jump at least a foot to a foot and a half higher (I thought) with them on. They were super. I couldn't wait to go out for the basketball team because now I thought I could get up around close to the rim ... NOT ! I was proud of my new basketball shoes ... I was standing tall ... I was sitting in deep cotton ... I thought I was "hot stuff" because I had a new pair of shoes.
On the way home my dad always liked to stop at an old-fashioned Dairy Dip for some ice cream. It was located on the corner of 40 Highway and Noland Road in Independence. I liked to stop there too.
We all got our favorite dairy treat and then headed home in the truck ... Dad driving, mom in the middle, and me riding shotgun. It was chilly and windy so we had the windows barely cracked in the truck for some much needed fresh air.
Back in the day before the awareness of keeping the roadside environment clean by not throwing trash out the window, most everyone just threw their car trash out the window of their vehicle and littered the side of the roadway. Well were no different than anyone else. We thru our fair amount out the window too.
I remember I was sitting in the seat looking at my new white basketball shoes while riding down the road. I sat them on my lap and was admiring them. This was the first time I remember getting any new shoes ... I'm sure I had some before but I don't remember. I finished my dairy treat, rolled down the window and threw my cup out the window and then rolled the window back up. Mom, sitting next to me, almost finished her dairy treat, didn't want any more of it, and promptly threw the remains out of what she thought was a rolled down window. It wasn't. The window was rolled up. So, all of her left-over purple colored raspberry syrup fell into my lap all over my new white basketball shoes. Man, what a deal! I was horrified and heartbroken! My new shoes were ruined. Now I could never jump high again! My mom was horrified too and very apologetic. Dad was just pissed off because the juice had gotten on the window and the door panel and now he was gonna have to clean it up.
Well ... mom tried and tried and tried to get the stain off my shoes but nothing worked. I had to wear them to school with big purple stains on them ... and they were brand spanking new! Mom felt terrible and said she was sorry, sorry, sorry that she had ruined them. I forgave her because I knew it was an accident, but my shoes were "stained forever."
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Burn Baby Burn !
I was a senior in high school. One night my sister Betty called on the telephone and asked my mother to let her talk to me. When I answered she asked me, "Guess what's on fire?" My first thought was that the First Baptist Church was on fire because I used to help my grandpa clean the building and I was always seeing dirty rags in the furnace room and I was afraid they would spontaneously combust and burn down the church building. When I told her I thought it was the church she said "no, it's the high school." My first thought was "Hallelujah, hallelujah, the school is on fire. I hope it completely burns down." It did. It was a two story brick structure with a basement and the fire totally gutted the building. Nothing was salvageable. Fire authorities concluded that the fire had started due to the old furnace exploding and catching the building on fire.
This was great, I thought. No school. No school building. No where to go to school. But wait ... the school board had other ideas. The school burned on Friday and we went back to school on Monday, just like usual. The school board decided to hold all high school grades and classes in the school gymnasium. They had card tables and long tables set up in the gym and even had room for two classes on the stage. The building burned in January so we had 5 months of classes in the gym. It was a hoot. No one learned anything because it was just one big party after another for the rest of the year. People made and threw paper airplanes, wads of paper, balls of paper, spit balls, books, and all sorts of other kinds of shenanigans. If you sat close to the curtain on the stage you could part the curtain a little bit and cause all sorts of distractions to the classes on the gym floor. I don't know how the teachers put up with the situation.
We were assigned seats and had to sit at certain tables. It was total chaos when we changed from class to class. At one of my tables we had a kid that would drink Wildroot Creme Oil (a hair dressing) and he could also fart on command. We were always getting him to take a swig of hair oil and if he drank too much he would always go to the bathroom and puke. Of course we thought that was hilariously funny. It was even funnier to make him fart whenever we wanted to. We would wait until things were pretty quiet and then make him fart. That would crack up everybody and the teachers would lose control and begin yelling for us to restore order.
One time during an episode like the one described above, I didn't know it but the PE teacher was standing directly behind me where I couldn't see him. He was also the football, basketball, and track coach. Well, we made our classmate fart and I began to laugh silently and about to bust a gut. Then I lost it and laughed out loud. Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and a stern voice from coach Coen. He spun me around and told me I had just laughed myself off the track team. He suspended me for the next two track meets. We only had three left, so while I was disappointed, it wasn't as big of a deal to me as it was to him.
The last five months of my senior year in high school was total chaos as far as learning anything. I think all the school did was to meet attendance requirements so they could continue to receive state funds to operate the school. I'm convinced no learning took place.
I think the board of education graduated all seniors whether they had earned the right or not. All students in grades 9-11 were promoted to the next grade at the end of the school year.
During our time in the gym most of us were in trouble most of the time (this included the girls as well). I'm sure our teachers wanted to pull their hair out. I'm sure they were frustrated to the 'nth degree.
I remember on one occasion after school we pulled Johnny Shelby's bicycle up the flag pole. Of course, the school principal was watching us out of his office window. We thought he had gone home but he fooled us. The next day he made the four of us go out to the flagpole and hold on to it for an hour. If we took our hand off the pole he would yell at us from his window.
This wasn't the only trouble I got into but I'll not reveal some of the others. Just junky kid stuff that was probably perceived as "bad behavior" at the time but not really. Only fun lovin things that most any kid would do if they had the opportunity.
As a kid I was fun-lovin-ornery. Only did one thing that was really bad and not acceptable, but I paid the price for doing it. That's a whole different story.
Burn baby burn!
This was great, I thought. No school. No school building. No where to go to school. But wait ... the school board had other ideas. The school burned on Friday and we went back to school on Monday, just like usual. The school board decided to hold all high school grades and classes in the school gymnasium. They had card tables and long tables set up in the gym and even had room for two classes on the stage. The building burned in January so we had 5 months of classes in the gym. It was a hoot. No one learned anything because it was just one big party after another for the rest of the year. People made and threw paper airplanes, wads of paper, balls of paper, spit balls, books, and all sorts of other kinds of shenanigans. If you sat close to the curtain on the stage you could part the curtain a little bit and cause all sorts of distractions to the classes on the gym floor. I don't know how the teachers put up with the situation.
We were assigned seats and had to sit at certain tables. It was total chaos when we changed from class to class. At one of my tables we had a kid that would drink Wildroot Creme Oil (a hair dressing) and he could also fart on command. We were always getting him to take a swig of hair oil and if he drank too much he would always go to the bathroom and puke. Of course we thought that was hilariously funny. It was even funnier to make him fart whenever we wanted to. We would wait until things were pretty quiet and then make him fart. That would crack up everybody and the teachers would lose control and begin yelling for us to restore order.
One time during an episode like the one described above, I didn't know it but the PE teacher was standing directly behind me where I couldn't see him. He was also the football, basketball, and track coach. Well, we made our classmate fart and I began to laugh silently and about to bust a gut. Then I lost it and laughed out loud. Suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder and a stern voice from coach Coen. He spun me around and told me I had just laughed myself off the track team. He suspended me for the next two track meets. We only had three left, so while I was disappointed, it wasn't as big of a deal to me as it was to him.
The last five months of my senior year in high school was total chaos as far as learning anything. I think all the school did was to meet attendance requirements so they could continue to receive state funds to operate the school. I'm convinced no learning took place.
I think the board of education graduated all seniors whether they had earned the right or not. All students in grades 9-11 were promoted to the next grade at the end of the school year.
During our time in the gym most of us were in trouble most of the time (this included the girls as well). I'm sure our teachers wanted to pull their hair out. I'm sure they were frustrated to the 'nth degree.
I remember on one occasion after school we pulled Johnny Shelby's bicycle up the flag pole. Of course, the school principal was watching us out of his office window. We thought he had gone home but he fooled us. The next day he made the four of us go out to the flagpole and hold on to it for an hour. If we took our hand off the pole he would yell at us from his window.
This wasn't the only trouble I got into but I'll not reveal some of the others. Just junky kid stuff that was probably perceived as "bad behavior" at the time but not really. Only fun lovin things that most any kid would do if they had the opportunity.
As a kid I was fun-lovin-ornery. Only did one thing that was really bad and not acceptable, but I paid the price for doing it. That's a whole different story.
Burn baby burn!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Grandpas Rubbers !!!
When we moved to town we lived right next door to my grandmother and step-grandpa. Grandpa was deaf as a door nail and he read lips to understand what you were saying when you talked to him. He was a little guy about 5 foot 6 inches tall and didn't weigh very much. I think he had to hold on to a tree or something if he got caught out in a strong wind to keep from blowing away. He was a pretty cool ole guy and I always liked being around him. He chewed tobacco and smoked a pipe which my grandma didn't like. He always had tobacco juice stains on his shirt.
When we got our TV he would come over a lot and watch. He loved to watch 'rasslin and would get all worked up watching the matches. He swore that the matches were real. His favorite 'rasslers included Gorgeous George and Wahoo McDaniels.
Years ago people wore goulashes (rubber foot wear) when it was wet and rainy outside to keep the mud and water off your shoes. Some were real fancy and just slipped over your shoes and some went clear to your knees with fancy buckles or zippers to close them up on your pant legs.
One time when grandpa came over to watch 'rasslin it began raining and then it started storming. The weather turned really nasty and our drive way was real muddy. Grandma called my mom on the telephone to see if we were okay during the storm. While she was talking to grandma, grandpa got mom's attention and asked her to ask grandma to bring over his rubbers. Well, when I heard that, I freaked out. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and was just beginning to learn about the birds and the bees and learning what all the graffiti on the bathroom walls meant. I was learning all the "dirty" stuff and had just learned what prophylactics were and that the common name for them was "rubbers."
A few minutes later grandma showed up carrying grandpa's goulashes (rubber foot wear) which he called his rubbers. You can imagine how shocked I was to learn that rubber foot wear were also called rubbers.
I was shocked and thoroughly disappointed to learn that grandpa didn't want his rubbers for what I thought he wanted them for.
When we got our TV he would come over a lot and watch. He loved to watch 'rasslin and would get all worked up watching the matches. He swore that the matches were real. His favorite 'rasslers included Gorgeous George and Wahoo McDaniels.
Years ago people wore goulashes (rubber foot wear) when it was wet and rainy outside to keep the mud and water off your shoes. Some were real fancy and just slipped over your shoes and some went clear to your knees with fancy buckles or zippers to close them up on your pant legs.
One time when grandpa came over to watch 'rasslin it began raining and then it started storming. The weather turned really nasty and our drive way was real muddy. Grandma called my mom on the telephone to see if we were okay during the storm. While she was talking to grandma, grandpa got mom's attention and asked her to ask grandma to bring over his rubbers. Well, when I heard that, I freaked out. I was about 10 or 11 at the time and was just beginning to learn about the birds and the bees and learning what all the graffiti on the bathroom walls meant. I was learning all the "dirty" stuff and had just learned what prophylactics were and that the common name for them was "rubbers."
A few minutes later grandma showed up carrying grandpa's goulashes (rubber foot wear) which he called his rubbers. You can imagine how shocked I was to learn that rubber foot wear were also called rubbers.
I was shocked and thoroughly disappointed to learn that grandpa didn't want his rubbers for what I thought he wanted them for.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Busted Again !
Me and my friends were always sneaking around and smoking whatever we could find to smoke. One time I found an open pack of Camel cigarettes in our garage. I was about 12 or 13 years old. The cigarettes belonged to my dad and he had left them there, probably for future use. I thought about not taking them for a minute but my friends encouraged me or dared me to take them anyway. So we were standing there talking about where we could go to smoke them. One of the guys had a lighter so we decided we would go across the street and go out behind Leonard Johnson's barn and smoke all we could before supper.
While we were standing there my mother drove in the driveway and I panicked when I saw her. I shoved the pack of cigarettes into the front of my pants. I didn't realize that the pack was upside down and that when I started walking up the driveway the cigarettes were coming out of the pack and falling down my pant leg onto the ground. We walked on out of the driveway and headed for Leonard's barn. We smoked all of them, probably 10 cigarettes. There was 3 of us so we each had a good smoking session. After we finished smoking my friends went on back to their houses and I headed home for supper.
When I went in I washed my hands and face and proceeded to the supper table. When I sat down I noticed my plate was turned upside down. I knew I was in trouble but I didn't know what for. After my dad offered a prayer of thanks for the meal, I turned my plate right side up and then I knew what I was in trouble for. There lay 3 Camel cigarettes. I looked at mom and then dad and they didn't say a word ... they just looked at me with a stare that would kill.
I was busted, again!
While we were standing there my mother drove in the driveway and I panicked when I saw her. I shoved the pack of cigarettes into the front of my pants. I didn't realize that the pack was upside down and that when I started walking up the driveway the cigarettes were coming out of the pack and falling down my pant leg onto the ground. We walked on out of the driveway and headed for Leonard's barn. We smoked all of them, probably 10 cigarettes. There was 3 of us so we each had a good smoking session. After we finished smoking my friends went on back to their houses and I headed home for supper.
When I went in I washed my hands and face and proceeded to the supper table. When I sat down I noticed my plate was turned upside down. I knew I was in trouble but I didn't know what for. After my dad offered a prayer of thanks for the meal, I turned my plate right side up and then I knew what I was in trouble for. There lay 3 Camel cigarettes. I looked at mom and then dad and they didn't say a word ... they just looked at me with a stare that would kill.
I was busted, again!
Stop and Get Me a Wolf's Head !
On the same trip to Salt Lake City, when we crossed the state line into Colorado, I began to see signs that read, or at least I thought the signs read: "Ask for a wolf's head." I kept seeing them pretty often and I began to think how cool it would be to have a wolfs head. Any cowboy worth his salt would like to have a wolf's head hanging somewhere in his room and I would like to have one too. Sometimes there would be 6 or 8 signs in a row, closely spaced, so my anticipation rose that I could get me a wolf's head.
After hours, or what seemed like hours to me, I finally asked my dad if we could stop and get a wolf's head at the next place where they had them. He asked me what was I talking about. He had never heard of such a thing and didn't know where I had come up with such a hair-brained idea. It wasn't too long until I saw another sign and told him to look, see, the sign says: "Ask for a wolf's head."
He saw the sign and laughed. He told me it said: "Ask for Wolf's Head Oil." I found out that a certain kind of gasoline station was advertising their oil lable brand: WOLF'S HEAD OIL.
I remember how disappointed I was that it was only a brand of oil and not a real wolf's head !!!
After hours, or what seemed like hours to me, I finally asked my dad if we could stop and get a wolf's head at the next place where they had them. He asked me what was I talking about. He had never heard of such a thing and didn't know where I had come up with such a hair-brained idea. It wasn't too long until I saw another sign and told him to look, see, the sign says: "Ask for a wolf's head."
He saw the sign and laughed. He told me it said: "Ask for Wolf's Head Oil." I found out that a certain kind of gasoline station was advertising their oil lable brand: WOLF'S HEAD OIL.
I remember how disappointed I was that it was only a brand of oil and not a real wolf's head !!!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Watch Out !!!
My parents seemed to always take vacation breaks on the spur of the moment. As I remember the vacations were more of a break from routine rather than a bona-fide planned vacation. Dad was self employed so I guess he was free to decide when he could be away from his work.
On one occasion however I remember a vacation to Salt Lake City, Utah was planned well in advance. We were going to visit my mothers brother who lived there. So we departed on schedule and made our way across Kansas, into Colorado, and then into Utah. I really don't remember much about the vehicle excursion but I do remember some of the things we did in Salt Lake City. I remember driving out to a hill-top and viewing the great salt lake from a distance. It was pretty cool to see but also very boring for a youngster of my age (about 9 years old). We visited the Mormon Tabernacle and listened to the choir sing. It was awesome. We took a tour of the place and I remember the tour guide standing at the front of the auditorium and dropping a pin on the floor. You could hear it hit the floor from any point in the room because the acoustics are architecturally perfect. I remember going up into the mountains outside of Salt Lake City to a state park for a picnic. A mean cousin of mine put me up to hiding from my mother who promptly concluded that I was lost in the wilderness and she wanted to call out the National Guard to help find me. She was convinced that I would never be heard from again. My mean cousin had hid me in the back seat of his familys car and when he saw my mother crying and panic stricken, he confessed and I was found. He was in big trouble and so was I. My mother made me promise I would never do anything like that again. At the time I thought it was funny to hide from mom and dad but I soon learned by the heat on the seat of my pants that it wasn't.
When we were driving around the streets of Salt Lake City I kept seeing a sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS. And since we were in the heart of Mormon country it made perfectly good sense to me to watch out for those heathen Presbyterians. I kept seeing the sign and seeing the sign. I finally asked my dad: How do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else? He said, "What?" I asked again "how do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else?" Well, he went into this long explanation of what he thought the theological beliefs of a Presbyterian were. He said you couldn't really tell if somebody was a Presbyterian just by looking at them; you would have to talk with them. He asked me why I wanted to know anyway. What was it that intrigued me about Presbyterians?
After many more times of seeing the sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS, I pointed it out to my parents. I said, see, look, there is that sign again. When my dad saw it he began to laugh and laugh and laugh and then laughed almost uncontrollably. Finally I asked him what he thought was so funny. He told me.
He told me the sign read: WATCH OUT FOR PEDESTRIANS. (Not Presbyterians).
I was thoroughly embarrassed.
On one occasion however I remember a vacation to Salt Lake City, Utah was planned well in advance. We were going to visit my mothers brother who lived there. So we departed on schedule and made our way across Kansas, into Colorado, and then into Utah. I really don't remember much about the vehicle excursion but I do remember some of the things we did in Salt Lake City. I remember driving out to a hill-top and viewing the great salt lake from a distance. It was pretty cool to see but also very boring for a youngster of my age (about 9 years old). We visited the Mormon Tabernacle and listened to the choir sing. It was awesome. We took a tour of the place and I remember the tour guide standing at the front of the auditorium and dropping a pin on the floor. You could hear it hit the floor from any point in the room because the acoustics are architecturally perfect. I remember going up into the mountains outside of Salt Lake City to a state park for a picnic. A mean cousin of mine put me up to hiding from my mother who promptly concluded that I was lost in the wilderness and she wanted to call out the National Guard to help find me. She was convinced that I would never be heard from again. My mean cousin had hid me in the back seat of his familys car and when he saw my mother crying and panic stricken, he confessed and I was found. He was in big trouble and so was I. My mother made me promise I would never do anything like that again. At the time I thought it was funny to hide from mom and dad but I soon learned by the heat on the seat of my pants that it wasn't.
When we were driving around the streets of Salt Lake City I kept seeing a sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS. And since we were in the heart of Mormon country it made perfectly good sense to me to watch out for those heathen Presbyterians. I kept seeing the sign and seeing the sign. I finally asked my dad: How do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else? He said, "What?" I asked again "how do you tell a Presbyterian from anyone else?" Well, he went into this long explanation of what he thought the theological beliefs of a Presbyterian were. He said you couldn't really tell if somebody was a Presbyterian just by looking at them; you would have to talk with them. He asked me why I wanted to know anyway. What was it that intrigued me about Presbyterians?
After many more times of seeing the sign that read: WATCH OUT FOR PRESBYTERIANS, I pointed it out to my parents. I said, see, look, there is that sign again. When my dad saw it he began to laugh and laugh and laugh and then laughed almost uncontrollably. Finally I asked him what he thought was so funny. He told me.
He told me the sign read: WATCH OUT FOR PEDESTRIANS. (Not Presbyterians).
I was thoroughly embarrassed.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Outstanding Pupil a Conservationist
I have an original copy of an article published Wednesday, May 17, 1961 in The Kansas City Times newspaper. I quote:
"A slender 5-foot 8-inch Oak Grove youngster plans to pit his 140 pounds against the adversities of nature in order to help conserve wild life.
Harvey F. (Pete) Grayum, a member of the Oak Grove high school graduating class of 32 seniors, at 17 years old has a realistic conception of the duties of conservation agents.
'In hard winters I want to be out in the weather to keep the wild life going,' he said. 'I want to work in restocking streams with fish and keeping records of the number of deer killed.'
To start, he will attend William Jewell college, Liberty, this fall and major in biology.
The beginning of his interest in conservation came from three years at the Boy Scout camp at Osceola. He has read the Missouri Conservationist for years. He hunts rabbit and quail and 'fishes all I can.'
In high school he served as treasurer of the Student Council and art editor of the yearbook. (He does still life paintings, 'every once in a while, when I get the urge,') managed the football team, played guard and defensive line backer on the squad and was on the track squad.
Pete also had time for church. The faculty named him the outstanding student.
At the exercises last night at the auditorium, Dr. Don W. Holter, president of St. Paul School of Theology, gave the commencement address. B.B. Robinette, president of the board of education, presented the diplomas.
The valedictorian was Carol Helman. Sharon Shrout and Harry Riead tied for salutatorian honors. About 500 persons attended the ceremony in the junior high school gymnasium."
(NOTE: My, my how things can change!)
"A slender 5-foot 8-inch Oak Grove youngster plans to pit his 140 pounds against the adversities of nature in order to help conserve wild life.
Harvey F. (Pete) Grayum, a member of the Oak Grove high school graduating class of 32 seniors, at 17 years old has a realistic conception of the duties of conservation agents.
'In hard winters I want to be out in the weather to keep the wild life going,' he said. 'I want to work in restocking streams with fish and keeping records of the number of deer killed.'
To start, he will attend William Jewell college, Liberty, this fall and major in biology.
The beginning of his interest in conservation came from three years at the Boy Scout camp at Osceola. He has read the Missouri Conservationist for years. He hunts rabbit and quail and 'fishes all I can.'
In high school he served as treasurer of the Student Council and art editor of the yearbook. (He does still life paintings, 'every once in a while, when I get the urge,') managed the football team, played guard and defensive line backer on the squad and was on the track squad.
Pete also had time for church. The faculty named him the outstanding student.
At the exercises last night at the auditorium, Dr. Don W. Holter, president of St. Paul School of Theology, gave the commencement address. B.B. Robinette, president of the board of education, presented the diplomas.
The valedictorian was Carol Helman. Sharon Shrout and Harry Riead tied for salutatorian honors. About 500 persons attended the ceremony in the junior high school gymnasium."
(NOTE: My, my how things can change!)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Tough Guys !
When I was in the seventh grade me and my close friends thought we were tough guys and bad boys. We weren't but we thought we were.
We decided to form a gang. We had heard about big city gangs and thought we could have a gang too. To show our togetherness we decided we didn't want to get tatoo's but rather curl our hair. We all got our mothers or sisters to give us a "permanent" on the front half of our hair. The curls stood up right above our forehead and looked ridicolous, I'm sure. We thought we looked cool. We wore the collars on our shirts turned up the way Elvis wore his collars. This made us even cooler (we thought).
We decided each of us needed a weapon. We talked it over and thought a billy club that would fit in your back pocket would be the way to go. We went to the local hardware store and we each bought a bar of solder that was used by plumbers to join copper pipes together. The bars were 12" long and 3/4" square. A perfect size. We took the bars to my dads garage/shop/warehouse and wrapped about 2/3 of the length with strips of rags to form a bulge on the end of the club. It worked perfect. We now had our weapons.
All of a sudden it dawned on us that there weren't any other gangs in town. No one to fight with. Oak Grove wasn't a huge community. The population when I was growing up was 761. So we thought we would "beat up" a few of the nerdy kids but we never did.
My dad saw the club one day and asked me about it. I was proud and eager to tell him. Instead of taking it away from me, as he should have, he told me: "Son, no bigger than you are someone will take that club away from you and beat the living snot out of you."
I told my friends what my dad had said and we all agreed he was probably right. As soon as the permanents in our hair "failed" and grew out we disbanded the gang. No fights ever occurred because there weren't any rival gangs roaming the streets. There were no turf wars. There were no drive by shootings. No one claimed a corner to sell illegal drugs. All-in-all it was a pretty boring experience. But we had fun, I guess.
Tough guys? Not really.
We decided to form a gang. We had heard about big city gangs and thought we could have a gang too. To show our togetherness we decided we didn't want to get tatoo's but rather curl our hair. We all got our mothers or sisters to give us a "permanent" on the front half of our hair. The curls stood up right above our forehead and looked ridicolous, I'm sure. We thought we looked cool. We wore the collars on our shirts turned up the way Elvis wore his collars. This made us even cooler (we thought).
We decided each of us needed a weapon. We talked it over and thought a billy club that would fit in your back pocket would be the way to go. We went to the local hardware store and we each bought a bar of solder that was used by plumbers to join copper pipes together. The bars were 12" long and 3/4" square. A perfect size. We took the bars to my dads garage/shop/warehouse and wrapped about 2/3 of the length with strips of rags to form a bulge on the end of the club. It worked perfect. We now had our weapons.
All of a sudden it dawned on us that there weren't any other gangs in town. No one to fight with. Oak Grove wasn't a huge community. The population when I was growing up was 761. So we thought we would "beat up" a few of the nerdy kids but we never did.
My dad saw the club one day and asked me about it. I was proud and eager to tell him. Instead of taking it away from me, as he should have, he told me: "Son, no bigger than you are someone will take that club away from you and beat the living snot out of you."
I told my friends what my dad had said and we all agreed he was probably right. As soon as the permanents in our hair "failed" and grew out we disbanded the gang. No fights ever occurred because there weren't any rival gangs roaming the streets. There were no turf wars. There were no drive by shootings. No one claimed a corner to sell illegal drugs. All-in-all it was a pretty boring experience. But we had fun, I guess.
Tough guys? Not really.
Straightened Out
I really don't remember much about the first three grades of elementary school except for recess and lunch break. Me and my close friends couldn't wait until recess so we could go outside and play cowboys and Indians. When it rained and we couldn't go outside it was terrible. Of course everyone likes lunch hour.
I remember alot about fourth grade. Fourth grade was horrible. I hadn't paid attention in the first three grades and now in the fourth grade I had a teacher that expected me to know something. I knew a little bit but I didn't know the things I should have. I was an expert on cowboys and Indians but those subjects weren't covered in the curriculum.
My two sisters and brother, who had gone before me, were "brains" of the highest caliber. At least my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cline, told me they were. She was always ridiculing me when I didn't know the answer to a question. She would go into a tirade and tell me, in front of the entire class, how I should know the material and how smart my brother and sisters were and how I should be smart like them. Instead of challenging me to do better she would just brough-beat me and embarrass me. She was mean! I hated her and I hated going to school. It just got worse and the fourth grade was a total disaster for me. Of course I passed the fourth grade and was promoted to the fifth grade at the end of the school year. You had to be a real moron and idiot not to pass from one grade to another where I went to school. And there were a couple of those in my class. I'm just glad I wasn't one of them.
The fifth grade was an entirely different story. My teacher, Mrs. Levy, for some reason took an interest in me and wanted to help me get on track and straighten out some of the bad academic habits I had developed. I never figured out why she thought I could be a good student. She had a meeting with my parents and called their attention to the fact that I was a horrible student. She told them she felt she could help me and would be glad to keep me after school each day for an hour for a few weeks and see what we could do together. When my parents told me the plan of action I panicked. I think I was more worried about staying after school for an hour and missing out playing with my friends. I also thought all my friends would be convinced that I was a real "dummy" and the teacher just had to keep me after school because I had been behaving badly.
I don't remember all the details but Mrs. Levy did straighten me out and helped me alot with academics. I guess she just had a great desire to teach students and saw a student who needed some help. I'm thankful she helped me. One of the greatest helps was the fact that she never compared me to my siblings and never embarrassed me in front of the class. She treated me like I was worth the effort on her part to help get me on the right adacemic path.
From that experience in the fifth grade I began to like school. I didn't always do so well but I at least tried. When I went to school the national grading system was E, S, M, I, and F. E stood for excellent, S was for superior, M stood for average, I was inferior, and of course F means failure in any language. Even after Mrs. Levy inspired me to do better I still got alot of M's, some I's, and once in a while I would get an F. I think I remember getting very few S marks and I don't ever remember getting an E until I got to high school.
Thanks Mrs. Levy wherever you are!
I remember alot about fourth grade. Fourth grade was horrible. I hadn't paid attention in the first three grades and now in the fourth grade I had a teacher that expected me to know something. I knew a little bit but I didn't know the things I should have. I was an expert on cowboys and Indians but those subjects weren't covered in the curriculum.
My two sisters and brother, who had gone before me, were "brains" of the highest caliber. At least my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cline, told me they were. She was always ridiculing me when I didn't know the answer to a question. She would go into a tirade and tell me, in front of the entire class, how I should know the material and how smart my brother and sisters were and how I should be smart like them. Instead of challenging me to do better she would just brough-beat me and embarrass me. She was mean! I hated her and I hated going to school. It just got worse and the fourth grade was a total disaster for me. Of course I passed the fourth grade and was promoted to the fifth grade at the end of the school year. You had to be a real moron and idiot not to pass from one grade to another where I went to school. And there were a couple of those in my class. I'm just glad I wasn't one of them.
The fifth grade was an entirely different story. My teacher, Mrs. Levy, for some reason took an interest in me and wanted to help me get on track and straighten out some of the bad academic habits I had developed. I never figured out why she thought I could be a good student. She had a meeting with my parents and called their attention to the fact that I was a horrible student. She told them she felt she could help me and would be glad to keep me after school each day for an hour for a few weeks and see what we could do together. When my parents told me the plan of action I panicked. I think I was more worried about staying after school for an hour and missing out playing with my friends. I also thought all my friends would be convinced that I was a real "dummy" and the teacher just had to keep me after school because I had been behaving badly.
I don't remember all the details but Mrs. Levy did straighten me out and helped me alot with academics. I guess she just had a great desire to teach students and saw a student who needed some help. I'm thankful she helped me. One of the greatest helps was the fact that she never compared me to my siblings and never embarrassed me in front of the class. She treated me like I was worth the effort on her part to help get me on the right adacemic path.
From that experience in the fifth grade I began to like school. I didn't always do so well but I at least tried. When I went to school the national grading system was E, S, M, I, and F. E stood for excellent, S was for superior, M stood for average, I was inferior, and of course F means failure in any language. Even after Mrs. Levy inspired me to do better I still got alot of M's, some I's, and once in a while I would get an F. I think I remember getting very few S marks and I don't ever remember getting an E until I got to high school.
Thanks Mrs. Levy wherever you are!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
What's that Smell?
When I was in the 1st grade I pooped my pants! I remember sitting in the room, holding up my hand to get the teachers attention, to ask permission to go to the bathroom. I held and held and held up my hand but the teacher ignored me. Now it was too late. I pooped my pants right there at my desk!
Of course it started to smell. I remember a couple of girls that sat in desks next to mine began to ask "What is that smell?" And, "Where is it coming from?" I played along and acted like I didn't have a clue as to where the smell was coming from. Of course, it was coming from me.
When the teacher finally figured out the scenerio, she escorted me to the principals office. Of course there was a stinky trail following us. They were unprepared in the office to handle a situation like this, so once again they called my aunt Bea to come get me.
Aunt Bea came and took me home to her house which was only about 4 blocks from the school. She cleaned me up and called my mom to bring some clothes and to come get me.
One of the worst things was having to wear my girl cousins underwear, Mary Lou's, until my mom could get there with my clothes.
The other tough thing was going to school the next day and having all my friends rag on and tease me. It was especially difficult to face the two girls who set next to me.
Of course it started to smell. I remember a couple of girls that sat in desks next to mine began to ask "What is that smell?" And, "Where is it coming from?" I played along and acted like I didn't have a clue as to where the smell was coming from. Of course, it was coming from me.
When the teacher finally figured out the scenerio, she escorted me to the principals office. Of course there was a stinky trail following us. They were unprepared in the office to handle a situation like this, so once again they called my aunt Bea to come get me.
Aunt Bea came and took me home to her house which was only about 4 blocks from the school. She cleaned me up and called my mom to bring some clothes and to come get me.
One of the worst things was having to wear my girl cousins underwear, Mary Lou's, until my mom could get there with my clothes.
The other tough thing was going to school the next day and having all my friends rag on and tease me. It was especially difficult to face the two girls who set next to me.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Where's My Pencil?
When I began the 1st grade in elementary school there wasn't any pre-school or kindergarten. So you just went without any preparation for getting ready to start school. The room was set-up with old fashioned wooden desks in a straight row. And the room housed both the 1st and 2nd grades. All the 1st graders sat on one side of the room and all of the 2nd graders sat on the other side. It was cool. There were probably 12 1st graders in my class.
The school building was a two story brick structure with a partial basement. The building housed both the elementary and high school. Elementary grades were on the first floor with the second floor housing the High School. There was a shop in the basement for industrial arts classes for the high school. The furnace was in the basement as well. There was no air conditioning system.
There was no cafeteria so everyone had to bring their lunch. There was a water fountain on each floor but that was it. We had no lockers but there was a coat rack in the hallway.
On the first day of school my mom put two brand new #2 wood pencils with erasers in my lunchbox. Dad had sharpened them for me. When I went to school and looked inside my lunch box to get my pencils they weren't there. I panicked. I cried. I bawled. I thought someone had stolen my pencils. I continued to cry and it just got worse. The teacher tried to console me but nothing would work. The teacher ended up taking me to the principals office and the secretary called my aunt Bea to come get me from school. Of course by the time she got there I had calmed down. I went with her anyway. I was just way too upset to stay at school.
When we got to aunt Bea's we talked about what on earth could have happened to my pencils. She asked to look in my lunch box. There was a big napkin in the bottom of the lunch box and when she looked under the napkin, there they were! My two new pencils.
I guess if I had used the napkin rather than wiping my fingers on my pants I would have found the pencils.
The school building was a two story brick structure with a partial basement. The building housed both the elementary and high school. Elementary grades were on the first floor with the second floor housing the High School. There was a shop in the basement for industrial arts classes for the high school. The furnace was in the basement as well. There was no air conditioning system.
There was no cafeteria so everyone had to bring their lunch. There was a water fountain on each floor but that was it. We had no lockers but there was a coat rack in the hallway.
On the first day of school my mom put two brand new #2 wood pencils with erasers in my lunchbox. Dad had sharpened them for me. When I went to school and looked inside my lunch box to get my pencils they weren't there. I panicked. I cried. I bawled. I thought someone had stolen my pencils. I continued to cry and it just got worse. The teacher tried to console me but nothing would work. The teacher ended up taking me to the principals office and the secretary called my aunt Bea to come get me from school. Of course by the time she got there I had calmed down. I went with her anyway. I was just way too upset to stay at school.
When we got to aunt Bea's we talked about what on earth could have happened to my pencils. She asked to look in my lunch box. There was a big napkin in the bottom of the lunch box and when she looked under the napkin, there they were! My two new pencils.
I guess if I had used the napkin rather than wiping my fingers on my pants I would have found the pencils.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
All-Star
The Little League Championship World Series just ended with a team from Southern California defeating a team from Chinese Tai-Pai for the title of World Champs. Watching the entire championship series for more than a week reminded me of when I played Little League ball. They are good memories and I loved playing baseball. Our high school did not have a baseball team and I wasn't good enough to play in college so my Little League experience was it.
I played pitcher and second base. The coach told me I had a rather nasty natural curve ball. I didn't know the mechanics of "how" to throw it ... I just did. I also had a good change-up and a decent fast-ball. I could throw the curve ball on either side of the plate according the whether a batter was a "righty" or a "lefty." I had a very high strike-out ratio and was also successful at getting hitters to hit playable ground balls. When I lost my "stuff" I would get sent to the bench or to second base. I liked second base but it wasn't as much fun as pitching.
I played Little League for 3 summers. Each of the 3 years I was elected to the District All-Star team by my coaches as a pitcher. Only one other kid on our teams got elected to the All-Star team, so I was pretty proud and honored. I have some beautiful medals packed away somewhere but I don't know where. If I ever find them I'll put them somewhere easier to find.
I played pitcher and second base. The coach told me I had a rather nasty natural curve ball. I didn't know the mechanics of "how" to throw it ... I just did. I also had a good change-up and a decent fast-ball. I could throw the curve ball on either side of the plate according the whether a batter was a "righty" or a "lefty." I had a very high strike-out ratio and was also successful at getting hitters to hit playable ground balls. When I lost my "stuff" I would get sent to the bench or to second base. I liked second base but it wasn't as much fun as pitching.
I played Little League for 3 summers. Each of the 3 years I was elected to the District All-Star team by my coaches as a pitcher. Only one other kid on our teams got elected to the All-Star team, so I was pretty proud and honored. I have some beautiful medals packed away somewhere but I don't know where. If I ever find them I'll put them somewhere easier to find.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Tribe
The H. Roe Bartle Scout Reservation located near Osceola, Missouri is quite a place. I don't know how long it has been in operation, but when I was a kid, it had been operating for several years and it is still growing and going strong. I visited about 6 years ago and was amazed at how much the camp had expanded with new buildings, swimming pools, etc.
Central to the experience of Scout Camp was the tribe of Mic-O-Say. This program was based on folklore, fiction, and history about an Osceola Indian tribe that lived in the region way back when. H. Roe Bartle, a former mayor of Kansas City, Missouri and a powerful political leader in Missouri founded the camp and the Mic-O-Say program for scouting in Missouri.
Being "called" into the tribe was a great honor for a scout. It didn't come automatically just because you were at camp but was something you attained by being recommended by your scouting leaders. You had to be a model scout and live as such even to be considered.
No scout was ever "called" into the tribe at their first year of camp. This was something reserved for second and third year scouts. There were 3 levels of being a tribesman. You were called as a "Foxman," then progressed to a "Brave," and finally you attained "Warrior" status. Other levels of Warrior were attained with projects, programs, and various other things to advance you in the tribe. You could become a fire builder, or drummer, or shamman, but H. Roe Bartle was the chief until he died a few years ago. I don't know who is the chief now.
I was called into the tribe as a Foxman my second year of scouting. The name given to me was "He Who Builds With Wood," based on information I gave the elders of the tribe. I told them how I liked working with wood and my dad had taught me several things about carpentry.
When you were called into the tribe it was done at a huge campfire. Your name was called and you proceeded to an outer circle around the fire ring. Then after everyone was called and assembled a pair of runners came by and literally threw you from the ring and said, "Leave this council ring!" You left with the runners and were taken into the woods to spend the night by yourself and not come back into camp until the runners came and got you the next night about 6PM. It was a long night and you had to stay in the woods no matter what the weather was. In addition you were placed on "silence" for 48 hours. This made meal time at the mess hall a real interesting experience. You couldn't talk and if the campers didn't like you they would ignore you and not pass you any food. Some guys went hungry for several meals. But of course, this made you more of a man!
My third year of camp I made Warrior but this was the last year I attended camp. I never advanced in the tribe.
All-in-all my scouting experience was good. I earned over 30 merit badges. I earned the rank of "Life Scout" but did not complete "Eagle." My troop disbanded when I was a Junior in High Shool and that was the end of my scouting experience. I should have gone to another town and another troop to complete the Eagle rank but I didn't. Now I wished I had. Only 2% of scouts earn the rank of Eagle.
Central to the experience of Scout Camp was the tribe of Mic-O-Say. This program was based on folklore, fiction, and history about an Osceola Indian tribe that lived in the region way back when. H. Roe Bartle, a former mayor of Kansas City, Missouri and a powerful political leader in Missouri founded the camp and the Mic-O-Say program for scouting in Missouri.
Being "called" into the tribe was a great honor for a scout. It didn't come automatically just because you were at camp but was something you attained by being recommended by your scouting leaders. You had to be a model scout and live as such even to be considered.
No scout was ever "called" into the tribe at their first year of camp. This was something reserved for second and third year scouts. There were 3 levels of being a tribesman. You were called as a "Foxman," then progressed to a "Brave," and finally you attained "Warrior" status. Other levels of Warrior were attained with projects, programs, and various other things to advance you in the tribe. You could become a fire builder, or drummer, or shamman, but H. Roe Bartle was the chief until he died a few years ago. I don't know who is the chief now.
I was called into the tribe as a Foxman my second year of scouting. The name given to me was "He Who Builds With Wood," based on information I gave the elders of the tribe. I told them how I liked working with wood and my dad had taught me several things about carpentry.
When you were called into the tribe it was done at a huge campfire. Your name was called and you proceeded to an outer circle around the fire ring. Then after everyone was called and assembled a pair of runners came by and literally threw you from the ring and said, "Leave this council ring!" You left with the runners and were taken into the woods to spend the night by yourself and not come back into camp until the runners came and got you the next night about 6PM. It was a long night and you had to stay in the woods no matter what the weather was. In addition you were placed on "silence" for 48 hours. This made meal time at the mess hall a real interesting experience. You couldn't talk and if the campers didn't like you they would ignore you and not pass you any food. Some guys went hungry for several meals. But of course, this made you more of a man!
My third year of camp I made Warrior but this was the last year I attended camp. I never advanced in the tribe.
All-in-all my scouting experience was good. I earned over 30 merit badges. I earned the rank of "Life Scout" but did not complete "Eagle." My troop disbanded when I was a Junior in High Shool and that was the end of my scouting experience. I should have gone to another town and another troop to complete the Eagle rank but I didn't. Now I wished I had. Only 2% of scouts earn the rank of Eagle.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sinker, Frog, Shark
I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America when I was growing up. Before becoming a Boy Scout I was a Cub Scout. You don't have to be a Cub Scout to be a Boy Scout but it's kind of like going to pre-school before you go to kindergarten.
I remember the first year I went to summer camp at the H. Roe Bartle Scout Reservation near Osceola, Missouri. It was a 10 day camp and cost $18.00 per camper for the entire time. Our Troop #266 in Oak Grove would have paper drives and other work projects so we could apply our earnings toward the cost of camp. I was a "tenderfoot" with all of the anxieties you have going to summer camp for the very first time. All of the stories you heard only added to your already preconceived ideas of horrification about what might happen to you. They were all true!
I remember being horribly homesick after the first three days of camp. Our scoutmaster told the first year campers parents not to send any letters because it would make us homesick and that is something he didn't want to happen. For me it would have been better to get a letter during mail call. Hearing most of the other boys names called at mail call and not hearing your own name wasn't fun.
The highlight of camp for me was swimming. In order to be able to attend the "open swim" sessions you had to be able to swim 50 yards. If you couldn't swim the 50 yards you had to attend a swimming class for beginners. Well, I couldn't swim the 50 yards and I was labeled a "Sinker" and had to wear a circular red tag with a hole in it around my neck. You were required to wear it outside your shirt at all times. This was humiliating and embarassing because I was the only one in our troop that was a "Sinker."
The second year I was able to swim the 50 yards and was labeled a "Frog" and got to wear the Frog tag. My third year I was able to swim 100 yards and earned the coveted "Shark" tag. I was proud to wear it on the outside of my shirt. I even took Life Saving merit badge my third year and received Red Cross certification in Life Saving.
Meal time was a real experience at camp. We ate in this huge dining hall. I don't know how many tables there were but it seemed like there were a hundred. KP (Kitchen Police) was not a duty you wanted to do. You had to go to the dining hall 30 minutes early and set the table(s) for your troop. Then you had to go to the kitchen and get the bowls of food and put them on the table. Of course all the first year campers had to rotate for KP duty. I think I did it about every other day for the 10 days.
My least favorite foods included "Shit-on-the-shingle" (Corned beef on toast), "Buzzard Puke" (Oatmeal with raisins), and Breaded Tomatoes (we had no special name for this dish).
I'll share more of my scouting experiences in future posts.
I remember the first year I went to summer camp at the H. Roe Bartle Scout Reservation near Osceola, Missouri. It was a 10 day camp and cost $18.00 per camper for the entire time. Our Troop #266 in Oak Grove would have paper drives and other work projects so we could apply our earnings toward the cost of camp. I was a "tenderfoot" with all of the anxieties you have going to summer camp for the very first time. All of the stories you heard only added to your already preconceived ideas of horrification about what might happen to you. They were all true!
I remember being horribly homesick after the first three days of camp. Our scoutmaster told the first year campers parents not to send any letters because it would make us homesick and that is something he didn't want to happen. For me it would have been better to get a letter during mail call. Hearing most of the other boys names called at mail call and not hearing your own name wasn't fun.
The highlight of camp for me was swimming. In order to be able to attend the "open swim" sessions you had to be able to swim 50 yards. If you couldn't swim the 50 yards you had to attend a swimming class for beginners. Well, I couldn't swim the 50 yards and I was labeled a "Sinker" and had to wear a circular red tag with a hole in it around my neck. You were required to wear it outside your shirt at all times. This was humiliating and embarassing because I was the only one in our troop that was a "Sinker."
The second year I was able to swim the 50 yards and was labeled a "Frog" and got to wear the Frog tag. My third year I was able to swim 100 yards and earned the coveted "Shark" tag. I was proud to wear it on the outside of my shirt. I even took Life Saving merit badge my third year and received Red Cross certification in Life Saving.
Meal time was a real experience at camp. We ate in this huge dining hall. I don't know how many tables there were but it seemed like there were a hundred. KP (Kitchen Police) was not a duty you wanted to do. You had to go to the dining hall 30 minutes early and set the table(s) for your troop. Then you had to go to the kitchen and get the bowls of food and put them on the table. Of course all the first year campers had to rotate for KP duty. I think I did it about every other day for the 10 days.
My least favorite foods included "Shit-on-the-shingle" (Corned beef on toast), "Buzzard Puke" (Oatmeal with raisins), and Breaded Tomatoes (we had no special name for this dish).
I'll share more of my scouting experiences in future posts.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
My First Set of Wheels
I wanted a bicycle and my dad said I would have to work to earn the money to buy it. So he bought me an 18" lawnmower from Sears and said I would have to find some yards to mow. I never did figure out why he bought me the lawnmower rather than just buying me the bicycle. I guess he wanted me to learn that if you wanted something you had to work for it. I used to mow yards for $3.00 (at the most) and some of them I mowed for $2.00 As I remember they were big yards. I drove by them later when I was older and they were very small yards!
I had a bike picked out at our local Western Auto store in Oak Grove. It was a Western Flyer with white-wall tires, a mud flap on the back fender and tassles hanging off the handlebars. It was fire engine red. The bike cost $18.00 so I had to mow a lot of yards to save up the money. Gasoline cost me 18 cents a gallon and I could mow most of the summer on 2 gallons of gas. Anyway I thought the gas was expensive.
I finally saved enough to get the bike and now the world was mine. My parents would let me ride the bike most anywhere in town that I wanted to go. There was only one paved road in town and that was a state highway and I wasn't allowed to ride on this road. I could ride anywhere else that I wanted to.
One time me and my friends decided we would "ride the highway" to Sni Mills, 6 miles south of Oak Grove. Of course we hoped our parents wouldn't find out but of course they did. Before we went on our bicycle trip I "borrowed" a plug of tobacco from my grandpa. It was a brand called Tinsley's Thick. It was awful but we thought we were "tough" and could handle it. None of us had ever chewed before.
What we didn't know was that you weren't supposed to swallow the juice from the tobacco. We were all chewing and swallowing and after about a mile into the trip we all got sick. One guy was throwing up but I never did. I just got very sick and had to walk my bike back home. My mother was waiting on the back porch when I got home and wanted to know why I was looking so green and grey and I told her. She asked where I had been and I told her. I was in trouble again.
I got busted and my bicycle riding was suspended for two weeks. I got in trouble for riding on the highway AND for "borrowing" the chewing tobacco from my grandpa.
I've never tried chewing tobacco again!
I had a bike picked out at our local Western Auto store in Oak Grove. It was a Western Flyer with white-wall tires, a mud flap on the back fender and tassles hanging off the handlebars. It was fire engine red. The bike cost $18.00 so I had to mow a lot of yards to save up the money. Gasoline cost me 18 cents a gallon and I could mow most of the summer on 2 gallons of gas. Anyway I thought the gas was expensive.
I finally saved enough to get the bike and now the world was mine. My parents would let me ride the bike most anywhere in town that I wanted to go. There was only one paved road in town and that was a state highway and I wasn't allowed to ride on this road. I could ride anywhere else that I wanted to.
One time me and my friends decided we would "ride the highway" to Sni Mills, 6 miles south of Oak Grove. Of course we hoped our parents wouldn't find out but of course they did. Before we went on our bicycle trip I "borrowed" a plug of tobacco from my grandpa. It was a brand called Tinsley's Thick. It was awful but we thought we were "tough" and could handle it. None of us had ever chewed before.
What we didn't know was that you weren't supposed to swallow the juice from the tobacco. We were all chewing and swallowing and after about a mile into the trip we all got sick. One guy was throwing up but I never did. I just got very sick and had to walk my bike back home. My mother was waiting on the back porch when I got home and wanted to know why I was looking so green and grey and I told her. She asked where I had been and I told her. I was in trouble again.
I got busted and my bicycle riding was suspended for two weeks. I got in trouble for riding on the highway AND for "borrowing" the chewing tobacco from my grandpa.
I've never tried chewing tobacco again!
I Knew Nothing
My dad bought me a Daisy "Red Ryder" BB gun for my birthday one year. Don't remember how old I was but dad must have thought I was old enough. I loved it. I played cowboys and Indians with it nearly every day. All of my friends had BB guns and I think I was the last one in my group to get one.
We used to go to a friends barn and shoot at each other. Yes ... shoot at each other. The standing rule was to shoot below the waist but of course, there was an accidental shot once in a while that landed above the waist. It is a wonder that someone didn't get hurt seriously.
There was a street light on the corner next to my house. We would shoot out the bulb because it was great target practice. Someone, probably my grandma,would report that the light was out and the city would come and replace the bulb. Of course, usually that same night, we would shoot out the light bulb again. After a while the city just ignored the street light so the corner was in the dark most all the time.
We never did get caught shooting out the light but the town marshall did come by and talk to me one time about it. Of course "I knew nothing ... nothing at all."
We used to go to a friends barn and shoot at each other. Yes ... shoot at each other. The standing rule was to shoot below the waist but of course, there was an accidental shot once in a while that landed above the waist. It is a wonder that someone didn't get hurt seriously.
There was a street light on the corner next to my house. We would shoot out the bulb because it was great target practice. Someone, probably my grandma,would report that the light was out and the city would come and replace the bulb. Of course, usually that same night, we would shoot out the light bulb again. After a while the city just ignored the street light so the corner was in the dark most all the time.
We never did get caught shooting out the light but the town marshall did come by and talk to me one time about it. Of course "I knew nothing ... nothing at all."
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Another Cowboy Episode
Another thing I liked that cowboys did was to set traps. I remember from the old movies that when the cowboys wanted to catch the bad guys, they would dig a trench across the road and cover it with tree branches and sticks and leaves, etc. Then the good guys would get the bad guys to chase them and of course, the bad guys would fall into the trap (trench). Then the good guys would beat up the bad guys, have the sheriff take the bad guys to jail, and then the good guy got to kiss the girl and ride off into the sunset with her.
I thought this was pretty neat and I thought I would try it. There was a chicken house on our property and a garage. There was a walk space between them about 5 feet wide. I thought this would be a great place to dig a hole in the ground, cover it with sticks and leaves, and set a trap for some unexpectant weary soul. I would trap somebody! I would get'em!
I dug the hole right in the middle of the walkway about 2 feet wide and 12 inches deep. No one could miss stepping on the sticks and leaves and fall into the hole. I had a rope in the garage that I thought I could tie up the unsuspecting passerby, thus capturing the "bad guy."
My brother-in-laws grandfather lived in the chicken house that had been converted to a one room apartment. He was about 75 years old and rather thin and frail. He walked with a cane. His name was Jasper Scott.
Well, as fate and my luck would have it, Jasper stepped in the hole. I'd caught my first person in the trap! Of course I had no intention of catching a 75 year old frail grandpa that walked with a cane. I thought I would get someone my own age so I could beat them up and then tie them up with my rope. I don't know if I would have called the local police to get them thrown in jail ... after all, they had committed no crime. And where was the girl that I was going to ride off into the sunset with? Where, oh where was she?
Jasper sprained his good ankle really bad. He was able to get up and get into the chicken house, now an apartment, and call his grandson, my brother-in-law. When my brother-in-law arrived and surveyed the scene, it didn't take a New York detective to figure out the scenerio. I was in trouble ..... again!
I don't remember what my punishment was but I do remember having to apologize to Mr. Scott, fill in the hole-trap, sustain a really good tongue lashing from my hot-headed brother-in-law, and promise I would never do anything like that again.
Dad told me that if I ever did anything like that again, and hurt somebody, there would be hell to pay and I would pay it at a costly price.
I never set a trap again!
I thought this was pretty neat and I thought I would try it. There was a chicken house on our property and a garage. There was a walk space between them about 5 feet wide. I thought this would be a great place to dig a hole in the ground, cover it with sticks and leaves, and set a trap for some unexpectant weary soul. I would trap somebody! I would get'em!
I dug the hole right in the middle of the walkway about 2 feet wide and 12 inches deep. No one could miss stepping on the sticks and leaves and fall into the hole. I had a rope in the garage that I thought I could tie up the unsuspecting passerby, thus capturing the "bad guy."
My brother-in-laws grandfather lived in the chicken house that had been converted to a one room apartment. He was about 75 years old and rather thin and frail. He walked with a cane. His name was Jasper Scott.
Well, as fate and my luck would have it, Jasper stepped in the hole. I'd caught my first person in the trap! Of course I had no intention of catching a 75 year old frail grandpa that walked with a cane. I thought I would get someone my own age so I could beat them up and then tie them up with my rope. I don't know if I would have called the local police to get them thrown in jail ... after all, they had committed no crime. And where was the girl that I was going to ride off into the sunset with? Where, oh where was she?
Jasper sprained his good ankle really bad. He was able to get up and get into the chicken house, now an apartment, and call his grandson, my brother-in-law. When my brother-in-law arrived and surveyed the scene, it didn't take a New York detective to figure out the scenerio. I was in trouble ..... again!
I don't remember what my punishment was but I do remember having to apologize to Mr. Scott, fill in the hole-trap, sustain a really good tongue lashing from my hot-headed brother-in-law, and promise I would never do anything like that again.
Dad told me that if I ever did anything like that again, and hurt somebody, there would be hell to pay and I would pay it at a costly price.
I never set a trap again!
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