49 and not holding

In my pocket
I've got change
but not enough to
Rove the range.

I' take a walk to
hear it chime and tip
my hat to some old time

Jump and dance
to make a ring
and dream a dream
of some new thing

You may
flip a quarter
flip a dime
but I'll take this
birthday anytime!

Observations of a Four Year Old

Daddy has a penis.
I have a penis.
Adam has a penis but
Mommy just has hair.

Bearly Scared

Our Country Squire was packed, the Apache trailer was attached to the station wagon and Ol' Joe the canoe was strapped on top of the trailer. It was time for summer vacation and we were headed to our favorite place, Pog lake in Algonquin park. The park has a chain of camp grounds along the southern fringe, a jumping off point to the lakes and forests of the Canadian shield. The only access to this beautiful land is by canoe. After a couple of days polishing our canoeing skills and we would be off into the wild.
We arrived, checked in with the ranger, paid for our camping sight, and were eager to get our camp pitched, when the ranger added one more thing.
"We closed the dump this year to stop the bears from eating garbage but instead of t going back to the woods and eating nuts and berries the bears decided to forage in the camp grounds, I guess they just have a taste for people food."
WOW, now this was going to be a real camping trip!
"So," the ranger said, "that means no food in the tents and keep your coolers in your car."
The short drive to our camp site was a little more subdued as we scanned the tents, trailers and trees for hungry bears. How close would they actual come to our camp?
All concern was forgotten as we jumped out of the car and started pitching the tent, cranking up the camper, unrolling the sleeping bags and starting our fire. It didn't take long for our old chipmunk friends come and renew our aquaintance while stuffing their cheeks on anything we would give them, while we stuffed our selves on fire roasted hot dogs. With the dishes washed and the sun setting, the sweet smell of the pines began to lull us to sleep but before we drifted to our sleeping bag mom called us back to reality. "Now, if a bear shows up..." she handed each of us a metal plate and spoon "bang on the plate and yell as loud as you can to scare the bear away." Far from being afraid now all I could think about was driving away a wild animal with a wilder whoop and a mighty pounding on my plate. Dad must have felt confident too because he didnt put the cooler in the car, after all it was made of steel and likely bear proof. Laying the plate by my pillow I could not have felt more secure than if I had a great army surrounding me and I soon fell fast asleep.
Later that night my mother heard some rattling and thumping coming from outside the camper, with out hesitation she elbowed dad in the side and whispered whats that noise. Together, with plates and spoons in hand, they creped to the window and peeked out. There in the light of the moon was a bear, not three feet from our tent, laying on his back holding our cooler and rolling it over and over with his feet trying to get it opened. It was just like a circus bear rolling a big ball. They threw the door opened and started yelling and beating on their plates and off that bear flew.
The next morning my brother and woke up with a great feeling of disappointment, no bears, no banging and no whooping but when we told our parents all they could do was laugh. "You had a bear three feet from your tent and you didn't even wake up."
"What?" we were stunned, how could we have missed our opportunity?
"At least the bear didn't get into the cooler." Dad said as he opened it up but fell quiet as he surveyed the damage. The bear would have made a great cement mixer because all that food was mixed beyond use, spilled milk, mushy hot dog buns, over turned potato salad with broken eggs spread through out.
"Looks like our first stop will be the camp store."

Poetry in Motion

There is nothing like the promise of a sunny spring day skiing in the Canadian rockies and nothing like a 66 mustang stuffed with five skiers and their skis with four hours of drive time to generate a little fun. Some where between Calgary and Banff we passed two good looking girls in a later model mustang and we decided to write them a poem. We scrounged a pen and paper and composed a sonnet, the quality of which would have turned Shakespeare a darker shade of green than he already is, ending with we would like to ski with you.
We slowed down and the guy on the passenger side rolled down his window, I moved the car close and the exchange was made. They must have been mildly impressed or just as bored as we were because it didn't take long before they had pulled up beside us and sent us their poetic response. (score one for Canadian education) They would be happy to ski with us, we should have left it at that but flush with our towering poetic success forged ahead with yet another verse. The exchange was made and we felt confident that we were on way to spending a beautiful spring day skiing with these two lovely ladies. The girls sent their witty response back and we feverishly went to work on our third verse on completion we eased in close and rolled down the window.
Just as the exchange was about to be made the rear end broke traction on black ice and we began a slow slide. I let off the gas and made a gentle correction steering into the slide, allowing the other mustang to move ahead and out of our way. The car swung back the other way and I corrected more. On the third swing no correction would save us and we went all the way around and ended in the ditch.
I got out of the car and found no damage but our muses were long gone, a small patch of had foiled our destiny. There was no snow in the median and we pulled back on to the highway with out a push. We caught up with the girls at the ski area and I said, "glad to see you made it!"
"Yeah" They replied
"No thanks to you"

Jeep Ride

Camp meeting was always the high point of my summer. It meant being with friends meeting new friends and having a great time running around the camp ground. For a pastor's kid there was camp pitch which was a week before camp meeting when the pastors got together to set up and prepare the camp ground. All the kids would join different crews and pitch tents, deliver beds and mattresses,or clean the cabins. There was never a dull moment with this crowd, pastors without their flocks make for a pretty hysterical gathering.
On one particular day as our crew was ferrying mattresses, we watched as the camp's army surplus jeep got a new coat of bright green paint. At the end of the day we walked pass that jeep shinny and green, what a temptation! One of the pastors said,
"lets go for a ride." We all piled in three pastors and four boys and off we went four wheeling, up and down the hills through the woods. We were working our way up one steep hill and had almost made it to the top when the jeep stalled. A quick attempt to restart failed, and a frantic pump of the brakes told us that the jeep needed more than a new coat of paint. That is when things started to move fast, Behind us was a large curtain of mansanita brush, we flew through that with a snap crackle and pop and as it parted we saw one huge ponderosa pine dead ahead. The pastor sitting at the back grabbed two of the boys and on impact took them over the side of the jeep and away from the tree. The rest of us we stayed with the jeep because we had something to hang on to. Everyone climbed out to survey the damage, with the exception of one scratch we were all fine, but we had a jeep that wouldn't start, had no brakes, a flat front tire, scratched green paint, and a crumpled rear end. It was a long quiet walk back to supper.
The next morning as we started work we saw "our" jeep with the back end chained to a tree, being driven forward and slamming to a halt, then back again in an attempt to straighten out the damage.

Enchilads

When I was ten we packed up and moved to Phoenix, living in Arizona gave us our first chance to eat really good Mexican food. One of our first meals was with a family who had kids our age, about half way through the meal their son said
"Mommy there's a bug in my enchilads"
"Son thats not a bug it's an olive."
There was a pause as he looked closely at his plate.
"Mommy," he replied, "olives don't have legs."

What a Pair!

At seventeen my older son, Leslie took a Certified Nurses Aid course, as part of his training he worked forty hours in a local nursing home. One of his tasks was to bath and cloth the patients, after bathing his first female patient, he was momentarily stumped as how to put on her bra. As he pondered how to proceed the patient quipped, "get with it, they don't bite."