In the summer of 1972 I was dropped off at my uncle's farm while my mom and brother when ahead to Kansas City to where my dad was being stationed after coming back from Viet-Nam. I don't know why I was left there, but I am sure it had to do with my behavior. I had a tough year at school, managed to get kick out of my English class for most of the year and the local Fire Chief came by the house with a few questions. I was a nice person that enjoyed a little mischief. Well I don't think it was mischief.....the word would be felonies and misdemeanors, that had I got caught I would have spent much of my life in prison for, if I did them as an adult. To add to that, I had an horrific personal calamity happen to me that I will never fully recover from. So you can image I was a pretty screwed up teen...ok.... no comments about me not changing.
I of course had never been on a farm before and like any 16 year old, there was nothing I couldn't do as well or better than anyone else. My poor uncle had no idea that he was getting a destructive force the made Katrina sound like a summer breeze. I am sure that it was only through their prayers that the farm survived the financial havoc that I caused. On the other hand I was good entertainment that brought a little spice to their lives. The stories are legend.
I have read recently that it is not the bad things that happen to a person that defines a them, but how they respond to those bad things that makes the difference. I realize that I am not a good responder, but my uncle was the best.
One day after I had been there a month or so, I went down to get the red C55 dump-truck at the dairy and come back to pick up my uncle at the house. Well wanting to be on time and show how quick I could drive I raced around the dairy until their was a tremendous boom and a sudden stop of the truck. I had forgotten the risers were on the truck to hold more silage. I had no clue what I hit so when I got out to check what was going on, I saw half the riser missing and a six foot section of the brand new milk barn, their pride and joy, destroyed. I was sick to my stomach and I did not want to go pick up my uncle. But I did, fearing the worst. As I pulled up I could see him surveying my work. He gets in and says nothing for about two minutes--I am dying. He says" you hit the trees, didn't you?" My response was a shaky "No sir", He ponder a while and then said "you hit the gas tank?"....."No Sir"(I had already taking that out with the front loader on the tractor.) About two minutes later he finally asked "What did you hit?" I replied "The milk barn" I expected a lot of yelling, maybe a smack or two, maybe you should go home, but I got a "If that don't beat all" and nothing else. This was beyond anything I had experience in my life--I wanted to cuss my self out and then inflict a little pain. The day wasn't over. When you cut silage you drive along side the tractor as it is throwing the stuff into the truck. Well I must have been daydreaming because the next thing I knew I hit the tractor with the rear of the truck and drove the handle that opened the back, straight into the back tire of the tractor. My uncle stopped opened the door to the cab of the tractor, look at the tire, got back into the tractor and stared straight ahead. An eternity to me and only two minutes for him, he got out of the tractor and got in next to me and said "we got to go get a new tire". That tire cost several hundreds of dollars, but nothing was said.
He yelled at me only once that I remember. I had decided that it would be quicker to straddle a PTO shaft that was running at full speed to get to the other side. I heard all kinds of screaming as my uncle was racing to shut off the PTO. He raised his voice and told me never to do that again and how easy that it could have grabbed my clothes and killed me.
I did manage to make him cuss once. I had taken up dipping Skoal, like my cousin. Well my cousin and I were sitting in the cab of the dump truck waiting on my uncle's instructions. I didn't see him coming up next to us, I turned and spit a huge amount of juice right in his face, He said a quiet but firm"Ahhh Shhhiiitttt" and walked off---don't remember how long it took him to come back.
He always responded calmly to any disaster or misadventure I was involved in. It must have made his sons a little jealous because he wasn't so calm with them. But he somehow knew what I needed as a human and forever changed my life. I have no doubt that I would be either locked up or dead now, if it wasn't for that stay on the farm. Believe it or not he let me spend another summer on the farm after I got out of the Marines.
He was a good Baptist, but never used religion to straighten me out. He saved me just the same and it took hold. I really can't image my world without him being around, it is going to be a lot lonelier place. Good-bye Uncle Bill, thanks for everything.
I don't recall the fire Chief coming by the house. But as we were both fire bugs it doesn’t surprise me! But what was the personal calamity? Dad was gone on vacation to Viet Nam! Twelve months of not being beat to near death for minor infractions, sometimes just for simple failure to comply with proper protocols. (Disrespecting Mom infractions! Those were never very clear) You see if Dad was home, you wouldn't have had a calamity would of you? If you had know that death was immanent, immediate and of course kept alive just so you could remember the pain of the beating or some hellish mental torture for which you would never recover from. Hey, Nam was a good thing! We got to live free; Mom paid the price of our endeavors. (I didn’t cause to much hell then, except when mom had her hysterectomy.) But I got to burn your Spitfire! LOL, If dad was there I would have been killed, not to mention the both of us for the burning of the yard and the carpet for which we tried smother the fire with which also went up in flames!. Christ, we're lucky to be alive!
ReplyDeleteNow as for being dumped at Uncle Bills, well FU! You didn't have to welcome Dad home. One minute I'm doing great, the next Dad has me a chair on the driveway in front of the house cutting all my hair off. You get to wreck a barn as well as other farm implements, buildings and equipment I'm sure. Good for Uncle Bill! You’re alive! Even better and I don't see this mentioned. He never told Dad and that tells me that he knew what a bastard he really was! Otherwise, we would have known that Truman had visited and destroyed on the farm!