Facts and Life: Unabridged

Facts and Life

Unabridged

by

Mudball

AuthorHouse™

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Phone: 1-800-839-8640

© 2005, 2012 Mudball. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4208-6330-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-6329-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-3193-6 (e)

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Looking Back and Remembering

Preparing For A Picnic

Autumn Leaves

Auto Sport

The Pool

The Hunter

The Purple String

Once In A Lifetime

The Wager

Times Changed

Getting Educated

Reunion

Education

Bureaucracy

Incrementalism & Subsidies

Law Enforcement

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Cozy Susan

Tsignal1

Dr. Sue

Preface

In all walks of life there are problems and solutions: however, solutions are often unpalatable to individuals concerned. Although problems seem to be greater as aging continues, they are no less important. The solutions seem to be more difficult and complex, as age and relationships become more significant to the person. Society propels the simple to the complex.

Words and actions interpreted and demanded by the human environment force the simple into the complex. Children solve problems while adults agonize after shading the solution by not facing the real problems. Rationalizations get easier with the aging process. Religion, politics, economics and social issues become more important forces in life as experiences are compounded. It all begins when children are asked, Why did you do this? They either lie or rationalize because they learn it is easier and safer. So what is truth? It is almost always a one-sided view or the individual’s explanation. Rarely is the answer unbiased on any issue. Truth can be misleading: whereas, honesty can only be defined as complete objectivity and factual. Honesty wanes with life experiences and aspirations.

Looking Back and Remembering

Summer vacation was rapidly drawing to a close for the two best friends, and although they looked forward to beginning in the third grade, it was hardly a delight to realize the good times were coming to a close. They each took turns giggling and expounding on exciting events of the past months. One escapade remembered led to another until the laughter brought inquiries from inside the house.

What are you two youngins doing out there? came a loud feminine voice. Hope you kids are not getting into trouble by pulling a prank on someone!

No mother, Don answered, we are just doing nothing.

Don’s mother immediately rushed outside to make sure the boys were not burning down the house or digging up the back yard. But sure enough, they were sitting propped up against the apple tree. Without assurances that they would remain in good conduct, she disappeared back into the house.

You know, Don said, I guess I like the summer things cause in the summer we play along the railroad and pick strawberries, and Mom puts sugar on them and boy are they good with milk. Sometimes she makes pies and cakes with them.

Yep, answered Ben, my mother makes strawberry tarts, and strawberry muffins. But the most fun along the railroad is running down the rails without falling off. It is also fun to put our ears down on the rails, then guess the distance of the train, and guess how fast it is coming when you can see it. I like to hear the singing rails.

Yeah, contributed Don, and we like waving to the train drivers and the man that rides in the back. You know, I got eleven bags of coal last winter and I bet you got about that many yourself.

I do not remember how many I got, but I sure do have fun throwing snowballs at those guys. Especially when I hit one! Ben giggled, It is fun ducking when they throw coal at us. They got lousy aim.

They sure would never make our baseball team, that is for sure. Don agreed. Is your mother canning today? Maybe we could go over to your house. We can go over to your house and eat apple peelings.

No such luck, Ben answered, she makes apple jelly out of the peelings. She has finished canning corn and tomatoes. When is your mother going to finish canning? Let’s us go see!

The boys scampered into the house and slowed down when they got into the kitchen where a heavy, large iron kettle was bubbling something. The pots and pans were on the lids of the iron stove that separated them from the wood fire. They were about to ask what was cooking when they were told to get more firewood, and on their return the jam was being poured into glass jars. They waited anxiously knowing what was next after the jars were filled and cooled. Paraffin would be poured on top of the jams and jellies to seal in the flavor, the paraffin she did not use was given to the boys to chew. It was especially good when they could scrape off the huge kettle or pans to give flavor to the chew. With a hand full of paraffin and another hand filled with raisins, they scampered back to their favorite tree that was next to the grape arbor.

You know, began Don, every time I see Mom canning, I have to remember Dad’s home brew. Dad makes the best beer in town, but sometimes it is a disaster.

How do you know that it is the best beer in town? questioned Ben, Have you ever drunk any of it? I bet you are just saying that cause you want to be older than me. I happen to know your dad would not allow you even a sniff of his empty bottle. Mine would not either. So how do you know so much about the taste? Besides that it smells terrible when it is cooking behind the stove and nothing that smells like that can be any good to drink.

It sure does smell bad alright, answered Don, and when dad skims off that foamy stuff, it makes mom mad when he puts it down the sink. Mom does not like anything about it. She thinks the making of it is not right and the odor, when it is working stinks up the whole house. Dad uses her crock that she uses to make sour kraut. Mom hates booze in any form. The stink really gets her riled up.

But I never hear your parents fight, Ben said, my parents fight all the time, and sometimes it scares me. My dad kicks things and throws things. That is what scares me.

No, my parents do not fight or yell at one another, Don answered, but mom sure does get steamed with some of dad’s doings. Sometimes they are really funny, after it is all over.

Ben reached up and grabbed a ripe bunch of purple grapes. He leaned back against the big apple tree and looked up to see pretty white clouds floating by. Don took another chip of paraffin out of his pocket and added raisins to make his chew a little better. He leaned back and thought about the ‘old days’. His attention turned to the previous discussion with Ben and he thought of beer making and beer tasting. Don remembered how he would pour beer from his dad’s bottles—the part that was left to barely cover the sediment in each bottle. He could get almost a fourth of a glass sometimes. But the most interesting part was watching his dad make the beer, skim off the gooey top when it foamed while ‘working’ behind the stove. It was especially fun to watch the beer being bottled and capped. Sometimes his dad could not wait the designated time for it to age in the crock and it would be bottled too soon. That is when nights became more interesting for Don. The beer was always stored in his mother’s pantry because it was dark and cool.

Don’s mother always resented the beer being placed beside her fruit, so it was easy to predict her reaction when the beer bottles would blow off the caps and some of the bottles were broken when the ‘green beer’ exploded. Don’s bedroom was next to the pantry, so the explosions were extra loud and he could hear the beer gushing and throwing foam all over the canned fruit. He could hear his mother calling out to his dad,

Walter, she would shout in her soft, stern voice, your beer is ruining my fruit. Now I have another mess to clean up!

There was a bit of pandemonium for the rest of the night. All the jars had to be wiped clean, the shelves had to be cleaned, and the floor had to be scrubbed. Don was all ears but he was very still in his bed, especially during times like these when children were not to be seen nor heard. Explosions in the pantry were not new and all were not the result of beer exploding. When the canned corn blew up, the ‘shoe was on the other foot’. Don’s mother always had difficulty with her canned corn, but she would never give up trying. All fruits and vegetables were stored together in the pantry, and the garden always had a surplus of sweet corn. Much of it was given away, but there seemed to be an excess which would end up on the table ready for canning. The corn field was Don’s favorite place in the garden because the stalks were ideal for hid and seek, and they provided large ears of corn that produced large quantities to be consumed and canned. Many techniques were used by the chief cook, bottle washer, and canner deluxe. It always ended up the same. Usually it took between four weeks to six months to find out if her try was successful. It would always end up the same—explosions and a sound of splattering that was unique to corn being spewed around inside the pantry. On these occasions Don would always lay especially still for he knew that it now only meant a lot of work for his mother, but her pride would be injured. But never were the beer episodes compared to the corn splattered pantry. Life was never dull.

One incident was the result of Sam’s extravagance while milking old Maude. Old Maude was a jersey cow that gave a bucket of milk twice a day just like clockwork. When Don did the milking he would always bring a large bucket of milk. In fact, it was so heavy that he had to carry it with two hands; however, when Sam , Don’s older brother, did the milking he rarely brought in more that half a pail of milk. Then one day Don went to the barn while Sam was milking old Maude. Lo and Behold he immediately saw the answer to Sam’s half bucket of milk. He observed a milking exercise that was sure something to see.

Gee whiz, Don muttered to himself, would you look at that? He is squirting the cats!

Nary a drop of milk got to the floor of the barn. The cats would leap, twist, and fall on the floor to get the warm milk.

By golly, he whispered to himself as he was both awed and jealous while watching the exhibition, I have to figure out a way for dad to see this.

He wanted his father to know about why and how the milk was disappearing, and he wanted his brother to get caught to make up for all the beatings that Ben had received from Sam, so he devised a plan to expose the milk shortage. The opportunity came earlier than Don expected when his father could not find a wrench that Don had purposely placed in the barn on a work shelf. Sam was doing the milking and the timing was perfect.

Donny, he asked, have you seen my ratchet. I thought I left it in the shed.

I will get it, he answered knowing he would not be allowed to leave his studying, it is on the bench in the cow barn. I forgot to put it away when I finished working on my bike.

Damn it! You know things are to be left where they belong, he said as he raised his voice, but I will get it. You stay here and get your homework done.

Don bowed his head wishing that he could go to watch his dad’s reaction when Sam gets caught wasting the milk. Everything went as planned. Sam got the strap, and he was forbidden to milk for a month.

The restriction placed on Sam meant that Don had to do all the milking or some one would have to help. That left the extra chore to Don’s father. All went well for a few days, then a few swear words became more profound. It seemed that old Maude disliked the new set of hands, so she would use her tail to swish the flies and annoy the milking man. Often Maude would push him against the wall. Trouble was brewing one summer morning as the sun came up, there was no doubt that Maude was in disfavor.

Some day, he promised, that cow is going to shove me once too often!

Neither man nor beast ever pushed Don’s father around. However, the milk supply had increased to the point that not only was milk and butter put on the table, but cottage cheese was added to the menu.

Don’s father was a born trader, and he would trade anything sight unseen but he usually got stuck with a broken gadget. This time he traded a double-barreled shot gun for a rifle, and he was delighted with the trade naturally had to try it out. As soon as he got outside with his new weapon he saw a perfect target—a sparrow on the clothesline. He raised the weapon and fired. The bird sat there and began to sing. With a wild eye and swearing on his lips, he raised the weapon and fired again —the bird seemed to pay no mind and continued singing. Now the swearing became more intense and personal, and it was aimed directly at the sparrow.

I’m going to get that damn bird or know the reason why! He yelled as he raced inside the house.

He emerged from the house loading his trusty shotgun and cursing all the way. He pushed in four shells as he was watching that bird daring it to stay on the clothesline. He continued swearing as he raised the gun, pulled the trigger and a blast came from the gun with a thundering roar. The bird chirped a few times and then defiantly flew off the line. Don stood back and smiled at the event that occurred.

That sparrow is the firsts ever to get the best of dad, he giggled far out of hearing range.

Don’s father had done some work for a friend and in an act of gratitude he was given a nanny goat. Don and his brother were delighted with the new addition to the animal family. They now had a cow, a goat, chickens, a dog, and a cat, but at the moment they were giving most of their attention to the goat. In a matter of a few days a cart and harness were made in order for the children to ride with the goat. The cart was made with two shafts to fit into the harness and the cart was large enough for two riders. Sam and Don climbed into the cart and they were delighted when the goat responded to the coaxing voice of the driver. Of course, Sam was the driver. They rode down the alley and around the large garden for everyone to see. The goat had become a true friend. Days passed and Sam continued to do the driving and he was becoming very adept at driving the goat, but this only caused Don to become even more jealous than before. So finally on Saturday morning he went out to the barn where his father was inserting a homemade boot into a tire that had seen its best days. Don’s mission got side tracked when he saw the inner tube with seven or eight large patches.

Hi, it looks like it is about time for a new inner tube, he suggested, may I have this one to take to the river when you get a new one?

No, it has many miles yet, but you will probably get it pretty soon, his dad answered. .

Dad, may I ride in the wagon this morning without Sam, he pleaded, I would like to drive by myself. Sam always gets to have all the fun. May I, please?

After giving the question some thought, Don was given permission to harness up the goat and drive around the yard by himself. Needless to say, he was elated. Don climbed into the rig and seated himself and took up the reins with visions of his grandfather seated beside him. Many times he had ridden with this grandfather. He remembered how his grandfather would always give the horse a little flip with end of the reins to go faster.

This is going to be my best ride ever, he said to himself as he manipulated the reins to guide the nanny to turn one way and then the other.

This is too slow, he muttered to himself, I will give her a little belt on the rump. That will speed her up a little.

As a sharp turn came into view Don mocked his grandfather’s way of urging the animal forward, so he flipped the excess reins across the goats hind- quarters. Immediately the goat let out a loud noise and ran at top speed with Don yelling giddy up, but as the nanny made the turn the corner the wagon flipped over throwing him onto the ground. Don gave out a big yell and pointed out that it was the goat’s fault while the goat continued to drag the wagon until it was stopped by a neighbor. In a rage Don’s father ran into the house and came out with his newly acquire rifle. As he was loading the weapon Don was hoping that he was not the cause of his father’s rage. His mother yelled that it was no one’s fault-not even the goat!

No one cared about the goat meat, so it was given to the landlord and the hide was nailed on the side of the garage. The incident was never discussed or mentioned again. But Don reflected on the facts and concluded that part of the blame might be his, but not all the blame. Then there was old Maude. Now, that could not be blamed on him because he was in the house studying when that incident occurred. Nope, not his fault at all.

Milking had become a half-time-responsibility of Don’s father, but for some reason the jersey cow did not like him. Maybe it was because he was always doing the milking with a cigarette in his mouth, and Maude ate salt and mash while being milked, so it only stood to reason that she did not like the smoke while she was eating. As result she insisted on pushing the lit-up milkman against the barn wall, and he would swear and push her away, and sometimes he would use a board. Then the inevitable happened! One day Maude pushed him against the barn wall and the bucket was kicked spilling milk all directions, and even on the Milkman. He jumped up calling old Maude an S.O.B and went racing into the house. He went into the bedroom closet and came out with his rifle. He stood in the middle of the kitchen floor cursing while he hastily loaded his new rifle. His wife asked him to relax and think.

No, she reminded her husband, the poor cow is a dumb animal that just reacted to something that occurred and Maude does provide with food on the table, think about that.

Once his mind was made up, there was no turning back. Out the door he went swiftly and continued to curse with words that Don had not heard before. He followed his dad out to the barn, but he did not go in because he didn’t want to see Maude get a beating. To Don’s surprise a loud explosion came from the barn that echoed throughout the neighborhood. Then another! Don ran into the house and put his face into his English book, while his mother sat in her rocking chair with a stunned look on her face.

Don never saw Maude after that. He did not know how the carcass was disposed of, and like the goat episode, Maude’s demise was never discussed. The only result that Don could see was that a quart of milk was placed on the porch every morning for years to come. Don reflected on the fate of Maude, but he was sure that he was not to blame for what happened to old Maude.

I wonder it I should have left that wrench in the barn for dad to find, he reflected as a frown crossed his face.

But he was sure that what happened to Petey was not his fault in any way-absolutely not! That encounter occurred after Maude’s demise. Don and his father went to visit an acquaintance that had a horse that was supposed to be the fastest in the county. That was enough to intrigue Don’s father, so he wanted to see for himself. They rode up to the gate and Don got out of the touring sedan to open the way for his dad. When they passed through, he closed the gate quickly and ran into the field where all the horses were grazing. All the horses were beautiful, but none were as beautiful as the family’s Petey. Petey was a colt when he was acquired as a result of a trade. (One of a few good trades his father ever made) Don strolled over to the harness shed where his dad and the owner were shaking hands.

On the way home Don was very interested in what transpired between his dad and the other man in the shed.

Why were you and that man shaking hands and smiling about? He asked with a frown on his face.

Son, came the answer, we are getting a new horse. I have traded Petey and eight chickens. What a deal! We now have the fastest horse in the county—maybe in the entire state! Aren’t you tickled about that?

The only answer was a nod of the head. At last, his dad had the fastest horse in the county. Don hung his head and a tear slowly made its way down his cheek. He bit his lip and again nodded approval. When they got home and the news was spread around about the trade, there was more quiet approval. When the fastest horse was delivered the last good bye was tearfully said with hugs and stroking of Petey. The trader was delighted because he had the fastest horse in the county, and he was already negotiating with a professional rider to enter the fastest horse in the county for the steeple chase at the State Fair that was only three weeks away. Don did not care. He secretly hoped that the fastest horse in the country would come in last. Even more, he wished the fastest horse in the county would just drop dead and Petey would come home. Don went to bed that evening as a very unhappy lad. He wanted to run away with Petey.

Sunday morning was always a good morning for the entire family. A good breakfast together then church. The church was a delight for all the family because they got to see all their friends and discuss the past week. Don would have a lot to talk about. After breakfast, Don with his father and brother went to the barn to look at the fastest horse in the county. They strolled out to the barn and opened the door and they all stood in amazement! The fastest horse in the county was lying on its side-deader than a door nail!

That S.O.B. sold me a dying horse!

Don stood there thinking about what he had said and was he to blame?

Surely, he thought, the horses dropped dead, but surely God would not think I meant it? Any way I will pray a little extra in church this morning just in case I am to blame.

Don’s dad decided to build a bigger barn just in case he found another horse he might obtain in trade. He took Don with him to the lumberyard to purchase the wood and nails. When they returned he watched as his dad took a great deal of pains to make exact measurements, and everything went very well. Don was allowed to bring the lumber as needed, and he was given the job of keeping the nail bag filled to exact specifications. His dad was quite handy with tools: he made all their Christmas toys and other things needed inside and outside the house. So building a barn was just another project that he completed in evenings and weekends. When it was finished he backed off and took a look at this marvelous work. He was so proud of his work that he invited his neighbors over to celebrate with a few bottles of home made beer. They drank toasts to the barn many times before they called it a night. Everyone left feeling very good about the barn and its builder. The structure was a work to be proud of, but what Don’s father did not know as the weather forecast for the night. He did not know about Mariah.

A strong wind came up in the middle of the night and everyone in the family awakened to a crashing sound. Don’s father went rushing out of the house to see what was the basis of the noise they had all heard. He came back in walking slowly after what seemed to be an hour.

The damn wind blew my barn down! he announced to the on lookers, go back to bed. There is nothing we can do tonight.

It was not until the next morning after sun up that Don got to see what really resulted from a short bust of wind. There laid the barn in a heap of lumber. It had just caved in.

Last winter was the coldest in decades—at least that is what all the really old people said, but Don knew that there was plenty of snow for all kinds of games he might want to play. It was very cold and far below normal for that time of year. The snowfall measured five feet on the first snow day of the year, and schools were closed for a day which marked a good beginning of winter for Don and his friends. They could bring their sleds out and shine up the runners to allow farther coasting, but the best part of the early snow this year was the promise his dad had made. It was common knowledge that his dad had been working in the shed for a few weeks preparing a surprise he had promised to unveil on the first or second day after a deep snow. This was the first snow, so Don knew that the surprise would be displayed the next day, which happened to be Saturday. He ran over to his friend’s house to help shine the runners of Ben’s sled. While sanding the runners, Don was bursting to tell his friend about what might happen the next day.

Dad is making something in the workshop, said Don, he has promised that he would only bring it out after the first snow, the first heavy snow. He must be making a sled or skis or something like that?

I know, your dad had been in there every evening for two or three weeks now. He is always making something; sure wish my dad would do things like that, but he is always coming home too late and he usually finds a bottle somewhere.

Old buddy, boasted Don, you can share what ever it is. I am sure dad is going to bring it out tomorrow. I can’t wait, I would like to sneak a look.

Me too, answered Ben, buts if we get caught, he might not let us play with it.

We’ll wait, decided Don, let’s build a fort just in case it is something we would want to throw snowballs at, but I still think is it will be a sled or skis. Come on.

Saturday morning was cold, windy, and sunny which to Don was an excellent day for playing in the snow or skating or sledding. He was very anxious to see what the surprise was in the garage. Don could hear the hammering and sawing while he was accidentally playing near the garage. Soon his dad emerged with a broad smile on his face.

Donnie, he instructed, go tell four or five of your friends to come over and see the surprise I have for you and Sam. Hurry up. I will give you half and hour, then I am shoving off for a ride.

I’ll hurry, dad.

Tell them to bundle up good, it is cold and there will be a big wind chill.

Don did not know where they would go in the old Model T, but a ride was always a great adventure, so off he went to get some friends. Much to his surprise when he returned there was a wooden box-like sled behind the car. His father had made a huge sled to be towed behind the car. As friends arrived all climbed into the rig while the adults got into the car. The children were