When I was very young, we lived in Rockville Maryland, USA. I was probably 5 years old, and there was a younger guy down the street, probably 3 or 4. Much smaller than me.

I had a little red wagon like this:

I asked my neighbor friend if he’d like to go for a ride down the hill in the wagon. He said he wasn’t allowed in the street. I said something like “AHhhhhHHh! That’s a loada hooie”

Next thing ya know, we’re blasting down the hill in the wagon, really fast, and I heard a I noise. I turned my head and it was his Mom, running down the sidewalk, yelling. My first thought was: “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a grown up running”. My second thought was: : “Grownups look funny when they run”.

My friends Mom was very angry. She contacted my Mom, had a discussion, and my Mom sent me home. I knew I was in big trouble when my Mom got home from my friends house, but I figured my Mom would cool off pretty fast if she came home and I was dead. So, I laid on the stairs, with my face in the corner of the steps and was playing dead when she got home. She whacked me on my butt and I jumped a mile high, I certainly didn’t expect that! I was hoping for some sympathy (being dead and all) and a way out of trouble.

I don’t remember what my punishment was, but I still remember turning my head on that wagon, and seeing my friends Mom running after us.

For the record, I don’t think we were in any danger, riding the wagon down that hill, mostly the trouble was just breaking my friends Moms rule….

I would love it if someone reads this and says, “Hey! That was me!” We talk, and I find out it really was them. I’d like to apologize to his Mom for freaking her out.

And tell her she looked really funny running down that hill!

(This picture could actually be my old bike, except for the handlebars and seat. Mine was red and had that gastank looking part. And I kinda remember a smaller “hood ornament”). The seat was red though, and had white on the front.)

In elementary school  between first and second grade, we moved from Rockville, Maryland to Moberly, Missouri. I didn’t know anybody, obviously, and I was out riding my bike after it rained.

Back in those days there were a lot of gravel roads and I had an ancient bike with full fenders that covered half the bikes tire. I got stuck, I had mud and gravel all crammed up between the fenders and the tires and they couldn’t roll.
I had a stick, and was trying to get the mud out when this big girl (Carol, still keep in touch with her on Facebook) came by. I was amazed how easily she picked my bike up and moved it to my yard. Then she said she had a little brother about my age, and she lived two doors down. She invited me over to meet him.

We walked to her house, and she took me upstairs and showed me his room and said he was in there. I can’t imagine why I didn’t knock, I think the door was half open, but I went in and there was Greg, naked. He started yelling and I walked out. A minute later he was dressed and came out of his room. He and his little brother, Danny, and I were friends and hung out together all the time, back in the woods in Missouri.

We are still friends to this day. He has a bunch of kids and is a school teacher.

My other best friend, Doug, I don’t remember meeting him at school, but after school, I was dragging him home with me to meet my mom. He was saying he had to go home. I was saying “No, it’s just a little way further.” He said he was going to get in trouble and he’d give me his phone number and I could call. I said “No, I won’t remember, just come to my house so I can write it down. He said “263-6581”. All stop. I said, “I can remember that” and I let him go. I still remember it, and that is the actual phone number. I remember it seemed important for me to show my Mom what a great friend I had made.

You have to remember, this is 1967 and 1968, I was new in town and wanted to make friends. Greg and I were inseparable in grade school, but didn’t hang out much as teens, Doug and I were big time friends as teens and in high school. Doug also has a younger brother, Phil, who I keep in touch with more than Doug.

Although we don’t communicate much anymore, I’ve been in contact with them both within the past 10 years. (You know you’re getting old when “the past 10 years” counts as recently)

This post seems cheesy, it didn’t come out like I wanted. But oh well!

Have a good week!

It’s Monday again, Booo! The Washington Redskins won, Yeay! Dallas won, Booo!

Boo outweighs Yeay! That’s why it’s Mon-day (rhymes)

I really enjoyed posting the post about the little girl at the pool. So I decided I was going to start a thing called “Memory Monday”, where I tell a story I remember.

Today I’m going to tell about DItto and the baby goat.

When I lived in the apartment I used to walk Ditto Thee Dawg down the street to  kind of a dead end. One day near the dead end, there appeared a baby goat, tied to a light pole. This goat was exactly the same size as Ditto, and I assumed the goat had never seen a dog either..

So, they’re there for quite a while, nose to nose sniffing. Ditto on the leash and the Baby Goat on his rope. I’m thinking they’re going to become friends. All of a sudden, quick as a flash, that baby goat reared up and headbutted Ditto forehead to forehead. Ditto was so surprised he started barking like I never heard him bark before. He was yap yap yappin’, embarrassed I think. I was so surprised both by the headbutt and Dittos reaction that I started laughing. Usually when you laugh, you know you’re going to laugh before you laugh, but when you burst out laughing and don’t expect it, it’s a rare treat. That was so funny and unexpected.

Ditto wasn’t hurt, his skull is plenty thick, and the goat didn’t butt him that hard, it was just a friendly tap. I wish I had the whole thing on video, it was truly hilarious.

I’m going to try this Memory Monday thing for a few weeks, It’ll be about that long before I run out of things I remember. I figure it’s better than me bitchin’ about Monday every Monday.

Have a good week!