Walter O

     Well, here it is; the last day of my freedom forever.  No longer will I be able to drown Grannie's baby ducks or sneak off down the hill in the ditch, to see David Jenkins.  Since she can't hear, there is no way that she can see me.  So what if I am gone for half the day, she will never know.  The only reason that I left when I did was because David kept picking up spiders in the barn and letting them crawl on his hands and arms.  He wanted to put them on me, but that did not work out very well.  When I finally crawled back up the hill in the ditch, I had the board of education waiting for me and it was mad as fire.
     All that is behind me now and I am walking up the concrete steps at Headland Elementary School for the very first time.  Not so bad right now, because I am with Wayne and Benny.  There was enough kids around, to fill up North Foster Street  in downtown Dothan, for the National Peanut Festival Parade.  I had never been inside a school before and I did not know that we would be separated into age groups and that they would put me in a room full of strangers.  I was scared to death and had to spend the rest of the day in Wayne's class.  I did not care that his classmates were laughing at me crying, I just cried all the more.  I know that Wayne felt like whupping the tar out of me, but he was gracious enough not to.  I knew what to expect the next day and I made it pretty well.  The third day at recess over near the swings, I was running as fast as I could around the corner of the building.  Judy Pippin was running around the same corner, but from the oppisite direction.  My front tooth hit her forehead, and folded back into the top of my mouth.  She had a nasty cut on her head and I had blood coming out of my mouth.  Mrs Kirkland made me walk home, about a mile from school, and mama pulled it back into place and it stayed,  The root is dead now and it is more yellow than the others, but at least it still works.
     Most of the boys went to school, as we did everywhere, barefoot and the soles of our feet were as tough as old leather.  We could walk over hot pavement and through sandspurs without much discomfort.  However we had a thermostat tht did not like cold weather.  Except for one; Walter O.  The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Walter was a big, rough and tumble, full grown boy.  As the weather grew colder, the rest of us boys started to wear shoes.  Not Walter, the colder it became the better he liked it.  I have seen him come to school and step on the ice in the mudpuddles and the ice water would shoot up between his toes.  He would just laugh and say "are ya'll cold?"  Heck yeah, and now more than ever.
     After butting heads a few times, I figured out that I needed to be friends with him, and that was a good decision.  In second grade we moved onto Oates Street, about 2 blocks from Walter's house.  This gave us an opportunity to hang out after school.  We played football in the vacant lot behind Dr. Morris' office, which was about halfway between us.  The most fun we had though, was terrorizing the neighborhood with our B B guns.  Every cat and every bird in sight, was in grave danger of being hurt or worse.  We were crack shots, but we could never figure out why we could not kill a mockingbird.  They lived a charmed life, I guess.  We were just boys and did not respect other's property.  We would take flashlights and hunt birds at night, roosting on the eaves of the neighbor's houses, until the man down the street caught us.  I don't know about Walter, but I got another board of education applied to my behind.
     Benny, Walter, and I were on Railroad Ave. one hot fall day, and the sun was glaring down bright with no wind stirring.  Across the tracks was the Headland Gin Co.  When they cleaned the cotton, they used a long conveyor belt to pile up the cotton burs.  The pile was about 25 feet tall and was like sand; spreading out from the center in a cone shape.  If you have never been on cotton burs with bare knees and feet then you have really missed out on one of life's most agonizing experiences.  Each bur has 4 points and each point is sharp as a tack.  Climbing up hill in a bur pile shows how little entertainment was availablle in 1960.  By the time we reached the top we were cut up pretty good, but not one of us would complain.  The skin would grow back soon enough.  We sat on that pile of burs like we were conquering soilders and nothing could hurt us.  All of us felt invincible at that moment and felt as if we could do anything.
     Walter said "look" and pointed toward Midland City.  Nothing good ever comes out of Midland City.( I have a lot of relatives there, so don't write and complain)  There they were, about a half dozen kids walking down Railroad Ave. coming our way.  What fun we were going to have.  We did not even plan it, it just happened,  We dug a foxhole in the top of those burs and got in.  When they got within range we ambushed them.  We were about 50 yards away and they could not hear the B B guns.  By the time the pellets reached their bare legs all the power was gone and no damage was done, only a small sting.  We heard them holler "Bees, Bees, Bees" and they took off.  They did not how true their words were, but it was metal B Bs.  We thought that was a lot of fun, but now I know that it was wrong and I am glad that no one was seriously injured.  Also glad that they went the other way, or Walter, Benny, and I may have been seriously injured.  Probably deserved it.

Sir Kenny

Long before computers, video games, a tv in every room, and movies on demand entertainment was easy to find. If the weather was halfway decent, most everyone was outside doing something. The grownups, if not working, were sitting under the shade tree sit with their feet propped up on the tree trunk. The younger kids were pushing 2x4 blocks around in the sand, pretending that they were dump trucks and cars. You could make a nice road with high ditches on each side. Others were shooting marbles around a ring drawn in the sand. A big shooter was a prized possession. Some were playing ball, with the stitches coming loose and the leather held on by hay wire wrapped around it. Grandpa's place would have fallen apart if it were not for hay wire. On cold days he would sit under the shed, the sunlight flooding over him and warming him up, pulling nails from old lumber. Banging them with a hammer to get them straight again. It was an art that he had perfected over the years, and very few of them got tossed away. Growing up in hard times made him use what he had and to thrive at it.
We were friend with the Nowell boys, who had horses that we all rode. Way back then all the roads were dirt and riding horses on the road was safe. Well, from being hit by cars anyway. You know that two young boys, such as Kenny and myself, and two horses were headed for fun for us, but fear for our parents. We had ridden for hours and the poor horses were worn out, when we found some cardboard tubes about six feet long, that roll linoleum came in, laying in the ditch beside the road. The magic number was 2 and the light shined on both of us at the same time.
He grabbed one, put it on his left arm, and rode off about 30 feet. I took the other one, put it on my left arm, and turned to face him. At the count of three(no one there to blow a trumpet or even to witness the spectacle) we dug off at each other. My legs, being longer than his, allowed me to wrap around the horses belly and stay on him. It did not however, lessen the impact and I can still feel the pain in my chest where the tube hit. Poor Kenny, though did not fare as well. He hit the ground with a thud and a curse. When I got my breath back, I laughed long and hard; so did he, albeit not as genuine as mine. He challenged me to another match, but common sense prevailed and I declined. I'm sure that he wanted to knock me off that horse and I'm sure that he would have. Maybe video games are safer.