Mile markers:Off subject

My Side door.

Mile markers:

Where did all the time go?

I wanted to put out some mile markers of my

life, not because they are important because

they are not, as mundane as mud on a rainy day.

But to exclaim them as sign posts.

As a kid I can remember the old guy on our block

always talking about the old times, boring,

who cares about the gone by days, we

would nod our heads when he started a story

and look for a time to politely exit.

I have become him.

I know when I don't have enough real time

in the real world, I start planing my conversations

for when I see someone.

I could be a happy hermit, I enjoy my company.

And like my own jokes.

The work I do keeps me up to 4 or 5am.

and messes up my day time schedule.

I try and get at least  6hrs sleep every 24 hrs.

And sleep when I want, cat naps.

I live in the house I was born in.

And it a small city very clickly.

Most people here wouldn't belong

to any club that would have them as 

a member.

At 6 or 7 I remember the circus
and the Fair
coming to town on a train, and the
whole family want down to watch it
unload. My grandmother
gave me $5 a day, a huge sum
in those days, rides and food and shows
all day long.

I went to a small private school.

And have kept all my text books,

high school and college.

Still have my 10th grade Latin

text book. A nice used library.

My first job paid 35 cents an hour,

at the local theater as an usher.
Enforcer to keep kids feet off backs
of seats.

On Wednesdays in the 9th grade

I went to to the Taxi co basement

for NRA target practice, they had

single shot 22 rifles we would use

for target practice, 50 foot range 50

cents a week.

Now they arrest first graders for making

finger guns in school.

The Nuns used rulers and slapped us

when we got out of line, and I think

this NO corporal punishment now

leads to kids killing kids.

Dad used a belt for discipline

and his mom used a willow switch on him.

Now kids get no constraints till they

go to jail or are put on trial as kids as adults,

where the State can KILL them.

Boy has that paradigm got screwed up.

And some times of the year, boys

would bring hunting rifles to school,

and their dads would pick them

up right after school and head out

deer hunting.

My dad was a hunter and trapper,

he would get up at 3am and run his trap

lines before work.

When he returned with the trapped dead

animails beaver, fox, mink etc.

He would wake me up and we would take

them into the basement, where he would

skin them and stretch the skins, and some

of the meat we would also eat.

I still have some of his traps and stretchers.

The first few times, was hard for me to take

it was grisley, you cut the sides and pealed

the skins off, my job was to take the guts after

he was finished and bury them in back yard.

After the first time I helped him skin them,

he marked me with blood on my cheeks,

Indian like. I was quite proud and managed

to sneak off to school with my markings to show

the guys, the nuns had a fit and made me wash it off.

My week ends were filled with the outdoors,

hunting fishing tracking, camping boating swiming.

I had a cousin that was 2hr away by bike and lived

on the edge of a great park, his mom would pack

a bag lunch for us and we would spend all day

roaming the woods, tromping through the streams.

He had a dog that got Cancer and his dad, my 

uncle ask me to take care of him. I'd known the

dog since they got it and it went with us into the park

many times.

Back in those days farmers didn't pay vets to put

pets down, he asked me if I would, I was 12.

I thought about it and said yes. God it was hard,

I didn't know if I really had the guts.

I viewed as one of the "manly" duties men perform.

I spent all night thinking it out, so there would be 

no mistakes. I chose a 22, and used a hallow point.

I took the dog, rifle and a shovel.

The dog was happy to be with me out on the

low lands, where the land was soft and near the

river. I dug a hole double the depth of this fat joyous

dog and called him over to the hole and he sat right

next to it, while crying I shot him between the eyes.

And he fell right into the hole. He felt no pain,

and his trusting eyes haunted me for a while,

but I viewed as my duty and a sign I was growing

up to be given this responsibility.

I walked around the river for an hour till I quit crying,

then came back, once fired the bullet couldn't be

called back. I did the job I was assigned without

any screw ups.

In high school I had a few girlfriends, and a date,

gas for the car, dinner, movie and snacks and ice cream

after was less than $5. 

My grandfather put that in perspective for me,

he over heard i was going on a date, and pulled me

aside and gave me a dime. He was in his 90s at the time.

Guess dated were even cheaper in his time.

My first new car was a AMC Gremlin and cost $1,900, monthly

payment was $19.

As a young boy 8 or 9 my grand parents used to

go down town and park vertical on main street, to 

meet all their friends, and show off their cars. After
work at the factory.

My G father was the General foreman a the factory,

he and one other man was up for the job, 

so they went into a freight car and fought for the job.

The Factory HR wanted someone that could keep the

men in line. 

Dad always told me not to kill anything I didn't eat,

and with my first BB gun, 400 psi, Christmas day I went 

out hunting, I was about 9. 

And came back with a pigeon.

Dad and I went down into the basement

and he cleaned and gutted it, and mom cooked it.

Dad said it was a fine shot and was proud I brought

some game home to eat, but convinced me

not to hunt any more Pigeons, only bigger game.

Cleaning rabbits, pheasants, partridge, fish, squirrel

became my job, lots of newspaper for the blood and

to wrap the guts in, Dad always cleaned the deer.

As a young boy dad made me a 14 foot by 14 foot sand

box 1 foot deep made me the most popular kid in the 

neighborhood.

Dad never finished 8 th grade but had a PHD in out

doors. He bought me a set of enclopedias when I was 10

and it took me 2 years to read them, Colliers. All 24.

I wasn't that smart but I thought it was fun.

Computers came in around my high school years.

and I wanted one. and figured out how to make one.

Now this was the era of the slide rule and i had several,

and was very good with them, high technology at the time.

There were no calculators at that time.

I studied the binary system.

And discovered it was 1 and 0.

and 8 digits.

So I got a set of 100 3 by 5 cards

and punched out every binary number

one to 100 on the cards.

hole punch was a zero,

and a double hole punch a slot near the

top of the card was a one.

So I could use a pencils in the holes

to define my numbers, the pencil would

pull out where the ones were, a slot

and stay in the zeros, a hole.

And using pencils I could calculate,

add, subtract and multiply with my binary

index cards.

As a kid we loved to play war, 6 to about 12yrs old.

All the kids would go behind the factory where there

was a large woods with a stream leading to the river,

the stream from the factory changed colors and no

animals lived in it, all of us kids knew intuitively not

to get any of that water on you. We went to war

with BB guns, and shooting in the head was outlawed,

no body ever told the adults what we were doing.

The kids without BB guns brought a heavy glove,

and would pick nettles, for whips. Which raised itchy

welts. So we were all armed, and we had a hell of a good

time.

My Grandfather used to belong to a gang,

and they used 410 shot guns with bird shot and

leather jackets. No shooting at the head.

The factory was running out of out door light 

bulbs and then they came up with BB gun proof

light bulbs, for real, I use up a whole tube of BBs testing

them.

I remember Mason Root beer, very high in carbonation,
great for shaking and squirting each other.
Pop was 7 cents a bottle.

We would go out to play at sun up as kids during summer

break from school, and come back around dark for supper.

Now I think I have forgotten how to play, i go out

and just see the yard work that needs to be done.

 Gerald

http://warintel.blogspot.com/2011/03/in-consideration-of-death.html

http://warintel.blogspot.com/2011/02/taliban-and-toys-for-boys.html 30-06

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http://warintel.blogspot.com/2011/04/iatt-capabilities.html

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