July
Sunshine, ice cream, swimming,
watermelon heaven
Summer-time good things sent ole
Lucky No. seven
Freedom half over and we’ve hardly
just begun
“California Girls!’ The Beach
Boys harmony sung
School-“daze” an on-purpose
forgotten nightmare
Summer-love in mind with coquette
maiden fair
Family vacation to the mountains
with pleasure
Add blue ocean-trip, a white sand
beach treasure
Lawns to manicure, tasty
bar-b-que, time bidin’
Hot day bakin’, eve partyin’,
convertible ridin’
Independence celebrate into summer
cool night
Bombs bursting in air, rockets
rocking in flight
Educate “city”-girl on snipe-hunt
under full moon
Promise! Kiss ’er again under
’morrow’s sun noon
Twilight to the drive-in, park in
far yonder last row
Who cares the movie? Sparkin’ car-wonder
fast show
Afternoon thunderstorm! A display
on remote ole Fox Lake
Clubhouse cozy-warm fire affords
romance-liberty dare take
Summer-Lovin’ attune with Mother
Nature game
No matter the season,
devotion-emotion still same
And, recall infinity space of
eternal youth expectation
Then, chance experience liberty
challenge emancipation
Just hint adventure scant sign
upon vacant trace
Wild variance unencumbered
exacerbate pace
Oh! From then to now here on
approach to where---Unafraid!
Proclaim victor! Gain prize
earned by generous dues full-paid
So! Descend hellion August
dog-days unambiguous
Prepared ready to rock ’n roll
with evil tempestuous
Plus:
Day 198
Waking up at
dawn to take cattle and pigs to
market followed
by breakfast at the “Greasy Spoon”
Our
“sensitive” girls hold a soft spot in their tender-hearts for animals: Beth
sure enough loves our four-legged “friends” as does our Becky-girl---she also
identifies with them in some kind of special
manner-of-understanding that not all of us are privy to. Hmm!?
We saw to it that our girls always had “money” on-hand; Lady Candice
is quite generous by nature and I seldom had two nickels to rub together as a
kid (sometimes, I find myself in that boat today!). Christian-generosity, indeed, begins at home. Often I would get my
bonus-checks cashed and come home with both hands behind my back asking our
progeny, “Which hand?”
An equal amount of money was held out-of-sight
and as the girls made a left/right
decision, I would hold out the money to each of them, usually hundred dollar
bill, sometimes, several. When they went shopping or out with friends to a
movie or dance, they always had ample cash, aside from the “trick”-hand chuncks
they generally deposited in their savings accounts. It makes a person feel
somewhat “whole” to have a pocket full of cash. I reckon so!
So, one fine day we see this ad in the local
paper: 7-feeder calves for sale. And, a phone number. I offered a
“partnership”-deal to my mega-rich
personal friends (Beth & Becky) who probably had more money on-hand than I
did, to buy the cattle and they would each choose one to claim for their own
and get “paid” the amount it brought at market, feed them, take them to market
and sell them and split the profits. I was to provide all the hay and grain; a
good deal for them. I would put up all
the investment capital; they would help tend the animals and feed and water the
brutes. Deal---Struck!
We call the guy, make an appointment to see
the stock, hook up our stock trailer to the ole 4 X 4 and head out like the Big-cattle barons we intended to be. All
the way to the man’s farm, I am lecturing the girls, Beth, 14, Becky, 7, not to name these critters, no matter
how cute they might be (the kids made pets out of everything on the farm and
then didn’t want to ever sell any of them). Silently, they listened to the “old
man’s” sermon knowing full well his soft heart would one day soon relent and
let them keep the critters. They objected not a single word. Hmm!?
Well, we finally get to the farm and the old
man met us in the parking area. A jovial sort with an unending smile and devilment
sparkle in his bright blue eyes; he shows us over to the barn where the calves
are being detained for our inspection. Each one---cute as a button.
We haggle a bit over the total package-price,
shake on the deal, write the man a hefty check, load-up our prizes and get in
the truck to head home---so…I thought!
We waved good-bye to our “Mr. Green Jeans” and
before I get twenty feet, I hear the old man yelling and looking in the rear
view mirror, I see him hobbling after us waving a white sheet of paper. I stop
and roll down the side window wondering what on earth could have gone wrong.
Breathless, he comes up to my door and hands
me an IBM punch card which is the way business-people used to give commands to
computers; P-C had not been invented, yet.
Smiling, Mr. Farmer-man, my “friend” hands me the punch card saying, “Here is a
list of the birthdates and names of each of the calves!” What!? Are you kidding
me? Conspiracy!
The kids held to the names and we fed and
fattened our “investment” and did “sell” them for a tidy profit about nine
months later; the kids made pets out of them---me, too…temporarily.
To this day, Beth contends she got short
changed as Becky got more money for her “Buster” than Beth got for her project.
Buster did outweigh the other cattle and did bring more cash at the sale; Becky
dismisses the sisterly-lament with a shrug and an explanation that she spent a
lot of time with Buster, talking to him while he ate, watering him and being
his friend and saying that he grew bigger because of her matronly attentions
toward him. Hmm! It does make sense.
On the other hand, I feel I should have
divided the money equally---but…C’est la
vie!
Anyway, I believe in a universal-justice whereby everything
evens out in the end.
If I
were to count numbers of cars bequeathed---well…let’s not go there! Okay!?
Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Mine is bigger than yours”
Memories!
