Kids "R" Fun

© 2004 copyright Raymond C. Evans

It’s been a long time since I was a kid for sure, but as I’ve watched my kids and grand-kids and the neighbor’s and everybody else’s kids grow, I just have to admit that Kids “R” Fun.

There was the neighbor boy; I think he may have been about eight at the time. He was a real spider killer. Beautiful big spider web, big spider, find a big rock, let the spider have it with all the strength an eight year old can muster. Oh, Oh! Didn’t think about that big picture window right there behind the web. Result, dizzy spider, real dead window!

And another neighbor boy about six or seven at the time, he and his family were about to embark on a trip to Honolulu, Hawaii. Like a lot of little boys his language skills had not yet reached perfection. Perfect syntax and pronunciation were just not his forte. It was always fun to get him to talk----. “I hear that you’re going to Honny-yoo-hoo”, I said.---- Now this little kid didn’t just now fall off that load of proverbial straw, he wasn’t going to take the bait that easily. “I hear you’re going to Honny-yoo-hoo”, I baited him again. Still no reaction except for a frown. I repeated it again; this was just more than the little guy could take. He was indignant now, “no, no” as he stomped his foot, “not Honny-yoo-hoo”, he was really indignant now, “Wanny-woo-woo”, he said, defiantly.

My own childhood wasn’t all that special but I can remember doing some pretty dumb things. Some, I will talk about and some I won’t. You’ve seen those signs along the county road saying, “Slow”, “Children”, meaning slow down. If they would have put a sign like that in front of our house, it would have read, “Slow Child”, meaning speed up. I was a little slow, that’s for sure.

There was the time I made a little sculpture at school, a dog. It was made of paper mache and plaster all dabbed on a piece of wire. It was painted up pretty, mostly white with some black spots. I’m sure it was painted that way because our family farm dog was that color and his name was Spot and I didn’t have a whole lot of imagination. “What a pretty dog”, my teacher lied. She had no way of knowing how disappointed I would be when my family would see it and tell me the awful truth. I was crushed; I was the only one who seemed to realize the thing was a dog. It had to be the most gosh-awful rendition and insult to any animal that ever lived. Somehow I seemed to be the only one alive who thought that thing looked like a dog.

And there was the time when I was in my dad’s blacksmith shop. The shop had a lot of hand tools, a forge (fired with coal), an anvil and a lot of other things for working with hot iron that my father was prone to do. Along side of the forge sat an old green wooden bucket about three quarters full of water. I don’t know why I’m able to remember the color of that bucket after all these years but I can. This bucket of water was what my father used to quench and cool the red hot iron that was drawn and worked from the forge.

Well, one rainy day while I was in the shop, I felt the need to go, I mean, “I really had to go”. One can only be expected to cross one’s legs so long and so hard without a real need to go. I didn’t want to venture out in the rain and there sat that bucket, what an opportunity. What a relief. --- Well that worked out OK, why worry, no one would ever know, that green bucket just sort of became a place of choice and convenience for a few weeks.

Then it came to pass one day that my father had to forge some iron to make some repairs. --- Build a little fire of shavings, add a few larger slivers of wood, light it with a match, bank some coal around the little fire and turn the crank of the blower. Nothing to it, the faster you cranked the hotter the fire got.--- Soon the iron was almost white hot, grab it with the blacksmith tongs, lay it on the anvil, beat it into shape, then into the green bucket to cool. Just as simple as that ---- well really not all that simple!

It took a little while for the steam to rise and a little longer yet for the steam to fill the room. It didn’t take very long for my father to vacate the building though. Out he came, through the door fanning his hat to dispel the aroma. Who? Me? Well, you see it was like this, I, uh, well, maybe it was my younger brother! No? Well maybe it was my older brother!

It really has been a long time since I was a kid; still, I remember it well.