Echoes of Laughter

Reblogged

Stealing Furniture

img_1592Bud’s co-worker’s in-laws were spending the summer on a job in Alaska.  They’d arranged for Steve their son-in-law to sell their piano for them in their absence.  Steve recruited Bud and several others to help him load it.  My young son, John, tagged along.  When the troop got to his inlaws, Steve realized he’d forgotten his key, necessitating a climb through the window.

John watched open-mouthed as Steve wiggled through the kitchen window and opened the front door for the rest of the crew.  They made quick work of loading the piano into the truck.  Apparently, Bud hadn’t gotten around to explaining the plan to John.  As they struggled, John tugged on Bud’s coattail.  “Dad, where are the folks who own the house?”

“They are working in Alaska, son.”

“Well, why are we stealing their furniture?”

Your Money is No Good Here

It’s good to compare notes with your family. My brother just told me my dad helped his brother-in-law counterfeit quarters back in the 1930s. Daddy’s oldest sister, Aunt Jenny, married Uncle Chester, a bona fide reprobate, a rabble-rousing drunk who enlisted Daddy to help with his quarter counterfeiting business. I don’t know if Daddy would have even qualified for reform school if he’d gotten caught, since he was just a hungry little kid trying to win a place at Aunt Jenny’s table for a few days. Mama and his younger sisters were about to starve since his own father was sick in bed at his mother’s house. Grandma wanted nothing to do with her daughter-in-law and the grandkids, though she was willing to care for her son. The boys were pretty much working for room and board anywhere they could.

At any rate, Uncle Chester made pretty good quarters, a time-consuming job requiring a steadier hand than his, since he was rarely sober. According the Daddy, Uncle Chester made impressions of both side of quarters using Plaster of Paris casts lined with onion-skin paper. The steady hands were needed to line the molds up and glue them together, leaving a tiny pour-hole at the top, where they could pour in Uncle Chester’s special melted alloy. Once the ragged quarters set, a little artistry work was required to finish them off. Voila! Quarters!

 

 

 

 

Uncle Chester had no trouble passing his bogus quarters at the grocery store, the mercantile, and the hardware store. The problem came at the bar. Though he was normally stingy and careful, one night he got a snootful and wanted to buy a round for everybody in the house. Indiscreetly, he brought out a bag of quarters to pay his tab. They didn’t ring true when he poured them on the counter. The proprietor objected, Uncle Chester tore into him, and Uncle Chester ended up in Leavenworth.

That really wasn’t so bad. His cell-mate taught him to make twenty-dollar bills. Before long, Uncle Chester was out, but wasn’t able to pass his twenties because he couldn’t get the color just right. After a number of frustrating attempts, he poured up some quarters and headed back to the bar. When he poured his clinky quarters out on the bar, just as Uncle Chester anticipated, the bar-tender objected. “Are you telling me my money’s no good?” A fight and arrest ensued. Uncle Chester went back to Leavenworth for a refresher, polished his craft, and never had any more counterfeiting troubles.

All’s well that ends well.

Cousin Mavis and the Heartbroken Philanderer

Travelling today so reblogging an old post

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

imageMany years ago, I had a Cousin Mavis, who’d inherited a really nice farm, together with her brother Beau, in an idyllic mountain valley.  She married Lloyd who greatly admired her farm.  They had a daughter, Sally.  Mavis quickly took issue with her husband’s carousing and tossed him out.  Quite willing and able to take care of herself, she continued to live happily on her farm with her brother Beau and Sally.  Beau did the majority of the farm work while Mavis taught school and kept the house running,   The three of them had a good life together, bumping along quite satisfactorily.  Beau never married though he was happy to keep company with a widow lady, saying, “No house was big enough for two women.”  In truth, I’m sure he felt he already had a wonderful homemaker who shared his expenses, a doting niece, and a prosperous farm he…

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Stupid Alcohol One-Liners Found on the Internet

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1. Alcohol should be served in Capri Sun pouches. When you can’t get the straw in the hole you’ve had enough.
2. Alcohol doesn’t turn people into somebody they’re not. It just makes them forget to hide that part of themselves.
3. Life and beer are very similar …..chill for best results.
4. I’m not an alcoholic. Alcoholics need a drink, but I already have one.
5. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
6. If you drink too much alcohol you are an alcoholic. If you drink too much Fanta, does that make you Fantastic?
7. I don’t recycle because it makes me look like a huge alcoholic to my garbage man.
8. I’m not an alcoholic alcoholics go to meetings, I’m a drunk, we go to parties.
9. Alcohol doesn’t make you fat… it makes you Lean…… on tables, chairs & random people.
10. My body is not a temple…..it’s a distillery with legs.
11. No! for the last time stop asking if i am drunk. I am not drunk! Who would name their kid drunk?
12. You say alcoholic, I’ll say alcohol enthusiast.
13. Take me drunk I’m home.
14. Anyone who says that alcohol is a depressant isn’t drinking enough of it.
15. When life hands you lemons, find someone with tequila and salt!
16. Dont drink and drive, it will spill everywhere
17. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
18. I’ve been told I’ve got A.D.H.D (Alcohol Drinking and Hangover Disorder)
19. It’s true alcohol kills people, but how many are born because of it?
20. Alcohol is never the answer… But it does make you forget the question.
21 c A man’s got to believe in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.
22. My doctor told me to watch my drinking, so now I drink in front of a mirror.
23. “Relationship” has 12 letters but then again so does “Time For Shots”
24. Confucious says, “Man who drink beer all day, have Wet Dreams all night”.

His Name was Mud

img_1579John had to be booted out of bed on schooldays, but weekends were a totally different story.  Always up before daylight watching cartoons, he wasn’t supposed to go outdoors before we got up.  Today, he couldn’t resist.  It had been raining for days, so the ditches were muddy rivers.  Adventure called his name as he helped himself to his dad’s rubber knee boots.   which were thigh-high on him, all the better to keep him dry.

He and Spotty, his little dog, were on their way.  The sticks he tossed into the swirling ditch quickly bobbed out of sight. Spotty leapt after one and had to swim for her life, finishing that game off for her.  John realized they needed a boat and constructed one of wood scraps.  Fastening it to his kite string reel, they headed back to the ditches!

Much wiser now, Spotty watched cautiously from the side as John launched his boat.  It bounced and twirled madly downstream.  He reeled it back in and set it off time after time.  Spotty barked wildly and chased it from the bank.

This was great for a while, but the boat really needed a captain. GI Joe might be a great soldier, but not such a great a sailor. As soon as the boat hit the water, it tipped and Joe went straight to the bottom.  John felt it was fortunate he was in Dad’s tall boots and could get Joe without getting wet. As he waded in to the ditch, the boots mired in the deep mud.  With each step, the mud sucked at the heavy boots.  His feet grew heavier, the ditch deeper, and the bottom softer.  After a few steps, the boots filled with cold water and buried deep in the mud.  John wasn’t going anywhere!  He called for help.  No one was out this early.  He was freezing by now!!  Spotty was running and barking, but that didn’t help.  Just before he turned into an iceberg, a neighbor kid who had also slipped out to play in the muddy ditches came to the rescue. He beat on his door, till I answered.

“Lady!  Your kid’s stuck in the ditch!!!”

“What?  It’s too early for kids to be out!!  It’s cold and nasty, besides!”  Just then I heard the caterwauling.  There was John, thigh deep in the muddy ditch, bawling his head off.  I pulled John out of the deep water, leaving the boots mired in the mud. Needless to say, John was more than thigh-deep in trouble.  Several days later, his dad had to get the shovel to dig his boots out. GI Joe gave his life for the cause.

Aunt Ader’s Place Part Eleven

 

evil-womanTrouble had its own plan and always lurked in the shadows waiting to jump me.  The simplest thing could go wrong.  There was just no way to anticipate what was down the road.  Billy and Troy were out of pocket when Uncle Parnell was ready to leave.  Daddy sent me and Sue to look for them.  Some neighbor boys told us they had seen them close to the railroad track.  Daddy had told us many times not to let him catch us on the railroad track.  We played close to it all the time, but out of consideration to him, were very careful not to let him catch us.  The kids went along to help.  Near the railroad, we found Billy’s sling shot.  I knew he would never have abandoned it.  This was serious!!!!   One kid slipped under the fence and scrambled up into one of the railcars, pulling the other up after him.  We heard them exclaiming, “Golleeeee…would you look at this!

pig-graffiti

Realizing they had probably found the boys’ bodies, we forgot about our warning and flew after them into the car.  There weren’t any bodies, but we stared in disbelief at graffiti-covered plywood walls. Most were in pencil, but many were brilliantly colored.  Monsters, naked women, effervescent angels, lurid devils, chimeric animals, faces of both beauty and evil, and, beatific pictures of Jesus looked back at us. Creativity in the form of poems also adorned the walls.

graffiti_devil_or_angel_poster-p228001309729216928tdcp_400

Since I had only a smattering of suspicion of the meaning of sex, I found the artwork and poetry edifying, though I suspected its use would land me in the doghouse at home.  Caught up in this rare cultural bonanza, we forgot about Billy and Troy.  Anyway, I was pretty sure they would turn up, but this was going to be my only chance at an educational opportunity of this magnitude.  Apparently, there are a lot of creative people riding the rails.  I certainly never saw anything like this at Sunday School.

As we continued our inspection, we heard a low rumble and felt the car jolt.  Holy Cow!!!   We jumped out and raced for the house as the train squealed and jerked into movement.  It was nearly dark! Caught up in all we’d seen, we’d completely lost track of time.  We sped for the house, knowing this was the most heinous crime we’d ever committed.  We were almost out of breath, when we met Billy and Troy.  “Boy are y’all in trouble.  Everybody’s out looking for you.”

I felt sick.  We went in slow and sad, the walk of doom.  Sure enough, everyone was furious.  The truth had beaten us home.  Froggy and Jamey had told them they left us  in the boxcars.  Daddy was furious!!!!  We’d done exactly what he had always warned us against and terrified them all.  Mother thought we had either fallen under the train or the hobos had gotten us!!!  Furiously, Daddy sent me to my room to ponder the evil I had done while Uncle Parnell grabbed Sue and Troy up and took off.  I didn’t dare open my door.  No one mentioned supper, especially not me.  Wild animals couldn’t have dragged me out of that room.  I rethought the whole incident over and over, re-scripting it in my mind, the way it should have been.  It wasn’t my fault.  I was only looking for Billy and Troy.  They could have been bleeding to death in the boxcar.  In my mind, I saved them countless times, risking my life as I jumped from the moving railroad car at the last second.  I imagined lots of different versions, none of them including me doing that I’d been forbidden to do.  No matter how hard I worked at it, I just couldn’t make it come out right.  I never realized it when I went to sleep, but my trouble was the first thing I remembered when I woke up.

I was surprised when Mother called me to get ready for school and eat breakfast, justlike  every other morning.  How could the day start out normally when I was in so much trouble?  I hated oatmeal, but ate it without complaint hoping to get on Mother’s good side.  She never said a word about my trouble and I certainly didn’t bring it up.  I went to school with a sense of dread, where it was business as usual, except I made sure to behave and avoid a note from the teacher.  I didn’t know if things could get any worse, but I certainly didn’t want to find out.

I hated to see the school day end.  I didn’t want to go home.  Daddy never forgot to take care of business when we’d gotten in trouble.  He wasn’t home when I got off the bus, a brief reprieve.  I did my homework, ate dinner, and was watching TV with the other kids when I heard Daddy’s truck.  I went to my room and sat in the gloom, waiting for the worst.  He and Mother laughed and talked just like they always did.  Finally, my door opened.  I shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep, but Daddy wasn’t fooled. He started his lecture the way he always did.

“We need to have a talk,” even though I wasn’t going to be doing much of the talking.  “You scared us all.  You did just what I told you not to do.  Something terrible could have happened.  Your mother thought either hobos got you or you were stuck on the train.”  He droned on and on like he always did, while I waited for my punishment.  I got in trouble all the time and knew the routine. I zoned out pretty soon, hearing just “rumble, rumble, rumble” like he was turning a crank.

I was careful to listen for the pause, when he always asked me why I did whatever it was I had done.  I had learned to stick with, “I don’t know” until he tired of asking because, I wasn’t  about to tell the truth: “I didn’t think I’d get caught” (“Smart aleck”- deeper trouble), or “I thought  such and such” (“That’s what you get for thinking”) or “I didn’t think so and so” (“If you’re not going to think you might as well be alike on both ends.”) Daddy’s lectures always went on forever until he got down to business, something involving a switch or belt.  I never did decide which I preferred, despite extensive research.  Unbelievably, this time ended differently.  Because my cousin Sue was involved, Daddy had gone by to talk to Uncle Parnell on the way home.

Uncle Parnell’s children didn’t enjoy the consistent discipline our family did.  Sue was a talented liar, and got off the hook with an incredible tale which Uncle Parnell pretended to believe.  Daddy was disgusted, and for some illogical reason, for which I was truly grateful, Daddy reasoned that even though I had disobeyed, at least I hadn’t lied the way Sue had.  I got credit for being the better person and was spared.  Good old Sue!!!

A Young Man

reblog  I am reading and enjoying this book very much, right now.

Andrew Joyce's avatarAndrew Joyce

yellow-hair-cover

Through no fault of his own, a young man is thrust into a new culture just at the time that culture is undergoing massive changes. It is losing its identity, its lands, and its dignity. He not only adapts, he perseveres and, over time, becomes a leader—and on occasion, the hand of vengeance against those who would destroy his adopted people.

Buy @ Amazon: US– CA – UK – AU  –  

 

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Aunt Ader’s Place Part 10

 Cartoon copied from Farside.

far-sideAunt Ella, Uncle Johnny, and their brood lived on Aunt Ader’s Place for a while.  Aunt Ella was of a volatile temperament, so from time to time, Uncle Johnny moved out and Mawmaw moved in to help Aunt Ella with the difficulties of raising six kids with no money.  No doubt, Aunt Ader’s Place was a viable option due to size and economy. It must be hard to rent a house with no indoor plumbing.  Within a month or so, Uncle Johnny was always back, so we never really had time to wonder what had happened.  Of course, we often came upon the women in conversations that abruptly ended when kids came in the room, but I never heard any good gossipy details.

Daddy never paid much attention to getting little kids home in time for bedtime, so one Saturday evening, my family lingered long past bedtime. My parents went home to tend to things, planning to be back on Sunday afternoon. Billy and I were surprised to wake sleeping on a pallet on the floor with a bunch of cousins.  This was no problem for me, since staying over with cousins was always on the top of my list.  After a breakfast of sugary-cereal (which we never got at home) Aunt Ella shooed us all out to play.

The horde of cousins availed itself of the opportunity to descend on the pear trees in the orchard behind the house, gorging on green pears.  I am sure we ruined most of the crop, climbing into the trees to get at the immature pears, breaking branches and knocking the rest to the ground.  Those pears, preserved for the winter, would have been a resource Aunt Ella had been counting on.  She was understandably overwrought as she chased us from the orchard with a switch, even connecting with a slow child from time to time.

I remember her shrieking at us as we headed for the woods.  “And if y’all get the squirts, I’m gonna beat your asses again.”  I thoroughly understood “ass-beating” but had never heard the term “squirts.”  In a couple of hours, I needed no explanation.  With about half a dozen kids on the run, determined to keep their squirts a secret, there weren’t a lot of trips to the outhouse.  The woods had to serve as protection from Aunt Ella’s wrath, as well as nature’s repository.  Propitiously for us, Aunt Ella’s fury abated by the time our parents arrived and she didn’t even tell on us.  Since then, I have wondered whether she forgot her threat to beat us, or if good sense prevailed and she saw the folly of beating the asses of kids with the squirts.  Either way, I won.