Drive - A Memoir 96th Installment
to
scramble out from under so we didn’t get chopped in half by the
blade!
We
were ditching under the big cottonwood tree where we built the tree
house coming in fast and hit a root. The contraption threw us a few
feet high before the straight iron come down on Russ’s leg a couple
years ago and he was bruised, bleeding and hobbling around for a
week.
The
year before when we were even littler, lighter, and younger, you know
‘made of the rubber’; we hit bedrock up by the twenty-five. The
ditcher threw us clear up onto the tractor. The Old Man was puttering
along probably day dreaming about another way to torture us kids and
suddenly he was slammed to a stop and two flaying boys come raining
down on his head. Probably the only time all three of us got hurt
while we were ditching. Russ and I moaning and Vern was muttering. We
got down and were going in circles in the hay field – walk it off –
walk it off – walk it off…
Surviving
the ditcher ride was a happy accomplishment on this big and busy day.
The chores were done, everybody’s cows milked, the sprinklers
moved, 2,000 bales of hay hauled, some of our hay piled, and dinner
enjoyed. We were whipped – tired – and in bed by ten.
Chapter
25
Russ
and I started a strange relationship with Tex, out best friend,
despite the fact that he was five times our age. Working on Tex’s
house was the most satisfying time in my memory. We’d dug the
trench for the foundation, with a deeper hole for a root cellar, a
while back, and later helped put in the floor and started standing
the walls. Tex’s house was a one room shack about the size of a
poor man’s garage, and I used to tease him about it.
“I’m
a sorry old man with no one in my life except you boys, and the house
we’re building is bigger than my grainy, and I lived there just
fine. What would I do with two rooms, I ask you?” Tex was defending
his house.
“Have
a bathroom for one thing!” I said.
“Why?
I live alone,” he argued.
“Won’t
work,” Russ said. “The stink can’t be trapped in a little
room.”
“I’ll
light matches,” Tex said and pulled out his drawings, pointing to
where the toilet and shower were in a corner. There was a sink drawn
next to the shower. Tex picked up a pencil and drew in a part wall
between the sink and shower.
“Okay,
it’s a good idea. Now I have a place to put my soap dish and hang
my towel. Thanks.”
“Why
did you say we were the only ones in your life? You play cards with
Phil, Mel and Howard at the store from time to time?” I asked.
“Those
guys are drinking buddies not friends.
500 more words tomorrow
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