Vivid Memories of Childhood and Beyond

fmdog44 said:
There really should be a rule against 100,000,000 words posts
Click to expand...



Hey! I jus' found another 100 million words!

The pedal car thread reminded me of my cousin...and his pedal tractor

Thing is, they had essentially nothing
Not even a whole house

Folks on my dad's side were some of the original The Grapes of Wrath folks
Only, my uncle Curty never ever quite got the hang of staying put....anywhere

We'd visit 'em about once ever six months (once we found 'em again)

They'd always be living in a house (sorta) on blocks
Always had to find a way to get up into the place
The yard was dirt
The interior walls always had blankets instead of doors

But my cousin had this pedal tractor.....and trailer
Seems he always had sumpm really cool
Had some sorta upmanship thing going

But, man, looking back, they were poor.....poorer than poor
My uncle never really had a job
Just got stuff and sold it
Even their houses

We were invited to my cousin's family shindig a few years ago
He's on his third or fourth wife
…...and third family
lotsa kids here and there


Anyway, he built a very nice place
Out in the country a ways
Built a trout pond
Very nice, well manicured grounds
Flies to work in his helicopter
Showed it to me, in his helicopter garage

I don't have a helicopter
or helicopter garage
...or a garage

still pretty much hate him
 

Last edited:
92b9a110e8bc5b43e0fe1eb8a41edda6.jpg
 
Thanks everyone for posting your stories. I found them to be wonderfully fascinating. I never really had a childhood. My mom and dad were killed in an auto accident when I was 3. (Killed by a drunk driver.) My grandparents tried to raise me, but grandpa died suddenly of a heart attack less than 2 years later. Grandma said he died of a broken heart. He went into deep depression when my mom died. The court was going to remove me, but grandma convinced the judge to give her a chance and she did a great job, but I never had that man in my young life to mentor me and we lived out in the country on a small farm. Grandma had to hire someone to help do the work after grandpa died. I started helping on the farm when I was about 8. No complaints. I loved it.

I never married or even had a long term relationship with a female. Never had time with serving my country both as an Officer and a Civilian. I flew many sorties in 3 different conflicts. With the life that I led, I don’t think any woman would have been happy just going along for the ride, or the wife of a Marine pilot. It was a great life for me, but not for a wife, even if she had her own career.
 
RadishRose said:
Thanks for sharing your background, Ben.

How did you get to fly fighter jets? Do you apply, or do they just choose you? I can't think of anything more exciting!
Click to expand...
It's a process Rose. I received a free ride to the Naval Academy and there I applied for the ROTC program and was selected to go through the challenges of that program, including serving some time and classes at Quantico. From there, I applied for Marine flight training and was fortunate to be the last man selected during that particular candidate qualification period.
.
You have to make a 10-year commitment and have a lot (and I mean a lot) of fortitude. They really put their pilots through the grind by testing their resolve almost daily. I was asked over and over again, "Are you sure that you want to be a pilot?" After I graduated, I went on to Miramar (Topgun) in San Diego. My first day there, I watched as the Naval pilots went through their daily exercises. I was excited, yet nervous as all get out.
 
Been There said:
It's a process Rose. I received a free ride to the Naval Academy and there I applied for the ROTC program and was selected to go through the challenges of that program, including serving some time and classes at Quantico. From there, I applied for Marine flight training and was fortunate to be the last man selected during that particular candidate qualification period.
.
You have to make a 10-year commitment and have a lot (and I mean a lot) of fortitude. They really put their pilots through the grind by testing their resolve almost daily. I was asked over and over again, "Are you sure that you want to be a pilot?" After I graduated, I went on to Miramar (Topgun) in San Diego. My first day there, I watched as the Naval pilots went through their daily exercises. I was excited, yet nervous as all get out.
Click to expand...
It sure is a process I see!

I want to be zapped by a Magic Wand- bingo, now you're ready- and just "take off"
:LOL:. 10 year commitment, wow. Thanks for the info!
 
RadishRose said:
It sure is a process I see!

I want to be zapped by a Magic Wand- bingo, now you're ready- and just "take off"
:LOL:. 10 year commitment, wow. Thanks for the info!
Click to expand...
You should try flying at Mach 1.5 and doing barrel rolls. Or, landing on an aircraft carrier in fog so thick that you can’t even see the ship. Or better yet, flying sorties to fire your laser guided missiles while they are firing surface to air missiles (SAM) at you.
 
Been There said:
You should try flying at Mach 1.5 and doing barrel rolls. Or, landing on an aircraft carrier in fog so thick that you can’t even see the ship. Or better yet, flying sorties to fire your laser guided missiles while they are firing surface to air missiles (SAM) at you.
Click to expand...
I should (have) Too late now. Maybe in a fog I'd get lucky and land on a carrier in a Harrier, hahaha.

Sorties, I dunno.
 
Here's an early one:

Nobody bothered to inform me that we were packing up and going to an Aunt/Uncle's home out-of-state. I was a little suspicious when I saw guys loading my tricycle onto their moving van. As one of my older siblings had cats, I asked my mother 'What about the cats?' She replied we wouldn't be able to take the cats in the station wagon, so they were sending the cats to a place she called the "SPCA." Confused, I asked her what that meant. She replied it's rare for the 'SPCA' to be able to find new homes for pets, so the cats would probably be killed when they arrived there.

Looking back: who in their right mind would say something like that to a child who was not yet 4 years old?
 
It's funny I saw this thread again today. My friend since I was in 1st grade called me today and we were talking about the past. Me and my friends would go to the local dances every Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. When I was 15yrs old I met my husband and we started dating. He would come to the Saturday night dances because they were in his High School. I stopped going to the other dances. He didn't like to do the fast dances so I was allowed to dance them with his friends, but the slow dances were just for me and him. One night at the dance he got made at his friend while I as dancing he Pony with him. He said the boy was too close to me. So then he decided we would fast dance together. My friend also reminded me I got a boy at the dance to take her to our Sophomore Hop and I got another boy to ask my other friend to the hop. Oh the memories she brought back to me.
 
Dawgs

I have some fond thoughts of our beagle, Joey.
Gotta say, he was my dog, even though he was meant for the boys.
Yeah, he was my deer dog.
Man, he could flush ‘em out.
The only thing is, I could never get him to run ‘em to me.
Oh, he could run ‘em by me.
On the dead run, hopping, leaping galloping.
So, we mostly just got our exercise. All three of us.

We had this neighbor lady, my wife’s friend.
Smug.
She was the neighborhood pre-google era self-proclaimed font of all info ever known.
Had that all knowing, smirky smug smile when you argued with her, even when she was obviously in over her head.

I may have actually hated her.

She was a churchy.
Always pressing my lady to ‘come, enjoy the wonderfulness of salvation’.
Almost ruined things for us.
But I actually came to enjoy the aspect of church.
You see, we agreed to send the boys with her family every Sunday morning.
Faithfully.
We’d get up, make sure they were ready to be picked up.
Wave bye bye.
Look at each other.
Close the curtains.
And…well…..you know.
Ya gotta just work things to yer advantage sometimes.

Yeah, that lady irritated the hell outta me.

There was that one time, however, that I most enjoyed.

She was in our front yard, all hunkered down, lettin’ Joey lick her face.
Man, he was goin’ at it, didn’t miss a spot.

‘Uh, that dog has some peculiar habits, you might reconsider him licking yer face.’

‘Oh, dogs have the cleanest of mouths, and he loves me.’

(OK, I won’t mention him just now gobbling up his own vomit from over indulging in yer compost pile, then crapping and dining on that).
‘Yeah, he really likes you, boy. You sure have a way with animals.’

‘ I was raised on a farm.’

‘Yes, I can see that. Surely can.’

Joey was probably the smartest dog I ever had.
Not bring me my slippers smart, but he had a logic about him.

I’ve never really had a dumb dog.
Just some that didn’t seem to have much of a plan.
 
Gary O' said:
Remembering childhood toilets

Early on, in my childhood tenure, I recall one thing rather vividly

Our toilet

Seems Mom wielded the enema apparatus somewhat unsparingly
And, from zero to three, the other thing that came into play, directly after being bent and filled with Mr Squirty, was The Duck
s-l640.jpg
Click to expand...

Just got some vivid recall;


We were dosed with cod liver oil.
Kinda developed a taste for it.

However, never quite got used to ‘the syringe’.
Mom was a bit of a quick draw in regard to the enema.

Hydrotherapy was the rage in the ‘50s

‘Heyyyyy, you look tired.’
WHIKTEEESH....THUK....SPLOIT
‘AAAAAHHHHH!!!!’
Yer on the hopper, holdin’ on for dear life to the green ducky’s head
while yer pooper is involuntarily spewing a gallon of water and hidden bits of last week’s hominy with horrific force.

‘You look rather peaked…when’s the last time you went poopoo?’
‘uh’
WHIKTEEESH....THUK....SPLOIT
‘AAAAAHHHHH!!!!’


We all learned to think on our feet at an early age;

‘Sayyyy, have you gone………’
’Yup, 11:46 AM, biiiiig poopoo, lots an lotsa big poopoo,
yessir, many turds,
huge ones, trophies, worthy of mounting, shoulda sent ‘em to the Smithsonian’

‘Well, OKaaaay……hmmmm’
 
My parents had a refrigerator that lasted for decades and always worked fine.

I did this quite often: whichever family member was present at the time, I'd ask the person to lift me up because I was too short to reach the freezer door. I'd then touch each letter of its brand name, and say each letter.. and after doing that with each letter, I'd say "it spells GENERAL ELECTRIC!" :ROFLMAO:

As I'd just turned 4 yrs old, it could've been what inspired my older brother to play little word games with me, read children's poems and stories to me, etc.
 
The new thread;
At the age of 60 - I find myself reflecting on Life..

Made me look back a bit

50 or so years ago

Had this girlfriend
Carmen
South of the border, gal
Not really a girlfriend girlfriend
Guess more of a mutual shack up
She was in her mid 30s
Me passing for early 20s

Thing is, her being a barmaid, well, she 'had to' flirt with customers
She did it so well, so naturally

Now, if I'd so much as look a few degrees in the vicinity of a fair maiden, well, she'd threaten me with the abrupt removal of Larry
'Larry' being what I affectionately called Mr Johnson (or, my other name for him....Mr Happy)

Anyway, I slaked my thirst at the little bar, Tony's, just south of the bridge that separated North Main from regular Main,
in old town Houston, just off the square.

One fine evening, I asked Carmen up (I lived in the hotel above Tony's)
We usually got after it in short order
Only, this time it wasn't happening

'I have something'

'For me?'

'No, you don't want this
...it's a sickness
the bad one'

That's the last time I saw her

....wait
that wasn't the last time
The last time was right before her and my other squeeze met each other in the hotel elevator

Hey, I didn't know much, but, after Zeke, the cool old elevator guy, told me what just occurred
Well, I vacated
With just what I had on
and
Larry

Those were some times

This guy I worked with, pretty nice guy, somewhat obviously gay, sat with me in the bar
Said he was sick
Horrible sounding voice
......and had these sores
Bought him a beer

Not sure, but don't think anyone knew of aids at that time
He died in his hotel bed just days after

Funny what one recalls when reflecting.....

I'd told my wife of Carmen many years ago
and again, maybe a year ago, as we were sharing stories of our old flames

Told her 'Carmen would be in her 90s right now'

'Nighties?'

Had to laugh at that one

Hey, this reflecting thing ain't bad
 
I've posted a lot of stories on this thread of mine

Hope this ain't a repeat.....


Trains, Docks and Cranes…Oh My!


I was in line to do some swampin’ for that gigantamous crane they had over at Hughes Tool in Houston.
The line moved pretty fast, as swampers seemed to opt for the early retirement option (from earth) about once a month.
Got to about 7th in line then Camille happened…kinda why I’m typin’ away in the here and now.

After Camille, freight trains became a fascination

Buddy Hans and I decided to hop a train ‘cause our dads did it.


I was told some yard bosses would even tell you the schedule, and some would run you off…to jail.


Hans was a slow talkin’ Scandinavian from the Dakotas.

Asked him once where Scandia was.
Couple days later he parted his lips, making a smacking noise, and said in his up and down syllable way
“Up near Dane and Norwege der….yuh”…..poppin’ me on the shoulder.


Man, couldn’t match those pops… his hands were like catcher’s mitts.


Trains were leavin’ the yard.


The yard boss had run us off twice, takin’ our water jug the second time…watchin’ us leave the yard.


We hid outside the fence until dark.


A gondola was creeping east on the outside track.


Easy pickins.


High fives…..ass slappin’ glee….we’re headin’ somewhere.


The train slowed.


stopped


Went backwards


Forwards again…. High fives…..ass slappin’


Slowed, stopped


Went backwards


Forwards again…. High fives…..arm poppin’


Slowed, stopped


Went backwards


Forwards again…. Head nods


Slowed, stopped


Went backwards


Quiet


Minutes later I peered over the edge


Our gondola was uncoupled on a spur about 5 miles from the yard.


We eventually found success, but learned a couple things.


Boxcar doors lock…from the outside


Gondolas are quite dirty, thus once you get to your stop, you have become the same.


Hot shots haulin’ fruit across the country don’t stop much.


When exiting a box car during a slowdown thru town, first learn the roll feature wide receivers use.


No matter how callused your hands are, landing at 15-20 mph can turn your palms into protective wrist flaps if you don’t know the above mentioned.


It’s best to hop on a boxcar when it’s at a complete stop if you have the gait of a diseased buffalo.


The term ‘Hobo’ just seems a kinda friendly portrayal of an old gent with red abandana tied on a stick..spinnin’ stories and singin’ hobo songs.


They generly turn on you moments after you grab their out stretched hand to board.


Give strong consideration to putting all yer clothes in a hanky on a stick, and board naked
…hobos generly leave you alone then…and/or it (at the very least) saves a lot of scuffle and time.


When a train is goin’ east and the one on the next track is goin’ west, and you’re in between, sit down young man, sit down!


All things considered, get a car, walk, hitch hike, swim, crawl.
Genoa Nebraska just sounds romantic…..they do like their oranges however.


Got a call from Hans a year or so after.


Hey der, tink dat gondola ever left da spur?


Loved that galoot.
 

You must log in or register to reply here.

Back
Top