Wednesday, April 25, 2018
The big doors were locked, but as small children, we could slip between them and the building and go inside. There it was, on the inside, was our personal playground. The white powder bat guano was piled to the ceiling. Three different piles, each just a shade different. Wayne had been there before and knew to bring a piece of cardboard from the loading dock. Motioning for us to follow, he headed up the stairs to the cat walk. That was the best thing we had ever done. Our hearts were pounding from the excitement of breaking in and the height of the stairs. We could barely contain ourselves. The bat doo-doo was about five feet below the catwalk, and sloped to the bottom in a cone shape. Wayne jumped with the cardboard, hit with a smack and started sliding downhill fast as lightening. Benny and I jumped, but we did not have a cardboard sled. We buried up to our knees in the white powder crap, and had to struggle to get to the bottom. Wayne, however was going so fast that he could not stop. Just as he reached the bottom, he rolled off head first, only feet away from smashing into the wall. When we reached him, all we could see were his legs sticking out of the bat crap, and kicking like crazy, up and down. We grabbed a leg each and pulled him out. We were laughing at him and embarrassed as he was he bounced each of us on the side of our heads. Smaller and younger, though we were, we bounced back.
When we tired of blood and bat shit, Wayne showed us some dynamite that they used to break up the guano when it clumped together. Now at this moment, fifty four years later, I know what happened to the windows. It also explains why we could slip inside the doors. Wonder if the building is still standing. Wayne was smart enough to take only the blasting caps and fuses. I think he knew that the dynamite was too dangerous. On the loading dock was a three foot length of 2" pipe, a cinder block and an unlimited supply of rocks from the train tracks. And every kid worth his salt, had a cigarette lighter. Well with all these ingredients for a fun filled Saturday afternoon, what could possibly go wrong?
Instead of aiming the primitive mortar across the tracks to the empty field, Wayne pointed it at the Brown's house, a quarter mile away. Wayne lit the fuse to the blasting cap, dropped it into the pipe, Benny dropped in a big rock and I got the hell out of the way. No need to worry, the rock came out the end of the pipe pretty as you please. You could see it flow through the sky and land on the tin roof of the Brown
's house with a loud bang. They scattered out of there like red wasps coming off the nest when you hit it with a corncob. They heard thunder and the sky fell on them. They were hauling ass somewhere, but where? They never figured out what happened. Are you going to tell them? I sure as heck ain't.
Monday, April 23, 2018
Monday, April 9, 2018
Thursday, April 5, 2018
As a small child, following along behind my grandfather while he plowed with the mules, I would see this old field stone. Later as I hunted game and arrowheads, I stepped over this stone. Little did I know what treasure lay within. Last week, I picked it up and brought it home. After busting it apart, a vein of smoky quartz was revealed. The large arrow head is the beginning of that vein and I hope to get many more knapped out of it. I am not a rock man, but I think it is quartz, since it is translucent.
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
These are two arrowheads that I knapped from a blue glass ashtray that I bought at the thrift store. When I struck it, it shattered into several pieces to small to work with. These two were all I could use. The pink ashtray shattered way to much and was useless.