Membrin

I've been doin some 'membrin and writin it down. I'm goin to chop out pieces of it as I see fit and post them on this blog. If you are in the narative or there 'bouts and would like to add or correct a point this is your chance. Not that I'll nesessarily use you input but I might who knows.

I started school in Bath Maine. We were close enough that Ray and I walked up the hill every morning together and then at noon I would walk home alone. During Christmas break we moved into Base Housing in Bunswick. It was a three bedroom one story duplex.
I learned a lot in the six months we lived in this house. I learned how wise my father was and not to fight with my brother Ray, at least not where Mom or Dad could see or hear. Mom had had enough of our daily death combat and had turned the problem over to Dad. He brought us together and after a marvelous but forgotten speech about not fighting Yada Yada said “Ok now boys Kiss and make up”. KISS? My brother? A Guy? Now? With everyone watching?? Oh please beat me! Rip out fingernails, anything but that! After we kissed my father informed us that that was how all of our fights would end from then on. We’d go blocks away just to punch each other. I also learned how funny my father was. One day while in a knock down drag out with Ray a few blocks away our younger brother Rob came up and told us that Dad wanted us home NOW! And that he was real mad. We couldn’t think how he would know we were fighting. None of the people in that part of housing knew us. Dads’ habit upon getting home for the day was to kick back on the sofa with a cigarette that he took from a music box dispenser and relax with the paper. My eight year old older brother had put a ‘Load’ in a couple of those cigarettes. I don’t know where an eight year old would get such a thing but I had stood by him as he inserted them into dads’ smokes. A ‘Load’ was a small splinter looking thing that when pushed into the end of the cigarette would explode when the match or hot box reached it blowing the end of the cigarette up and scaring the smoker and anyone else around not in on the gag. When we got home and opened the door Dad was sitting on the couch looking madder than hell. Dad could get that look – easy. His face was black and his hair was standing straight up. After falling on the floor blubbering “I didn’t do it! He did”! “He made me do it”! “I swear I’ll never let him make me do it again” Dad breaks out laughing. The load did surprise him but he took burnt cork and rubbed it on his face to turn the tables. Dad was a funny guy. I also learned how my Dad could overcome almost any obstacle by giving the problem some thought. I needed a bigger bike. The one I had was too small to learn how to ride with, my knees kept hitting the handle bars. So Dad found a big ole bike with the old fashioned curved handle bars and balloon tires for me. But it was a Girls bike! No way Dad! I’m not riding a Girls bike! So he took it to the hanger and had some guy weld a bar across the top. Problem solved. While learning to ride there were several ‘crushing’ moments that made me wish I’d not insisted on that bar.

Zipidee