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Discussion in 'In Memoriam' started by Ike Willis, Feb 5, 2017.
My Brother Goes to Jail
One fine October Saturday morn in 1952 big brother Ike came into the bedroom I shared with little brother Daryl. Ike gave my bed a healthy kick, jarring me instantly wide awake. "Hey hop, wanna go huntin' "? Silly question. I dressed, dug my shotgun out of the closet, found a box and a partial box of shells and was down in the kitchen in record time. Ike had made us two large bowls of oatmeal and heated up the breakfast coffee. Ike explained the rest of the family had left for town without me, since I fell back to sleep. Chores were done, there was nothing urgent to do. The ground was froze, very lightly covered with snow and it was sunny out. A great day to hunt bunnies. I wolfed down my oatmeal, covered with maple pancake syrup, just like Ike ate his, and we gassed up Ike's old Dodge pickup and headed out. Ike drove down an old country lane leading to several isolated cornfields. We stopped, Ike got out, loaded his shotgun, climbed in the back and told me to drive slowly back and forth over the field. The corn had been picked but lots of stray ears lay scattered about on the ground and there were overgrown pastures between the fields. Drive over those too. He would shoot. When he pounded on the cab roof, I was to stop so he could retrieve the game. Illegal? Yeah.
Being a farm boy, I could drive since before I was 10. I was having a great time just driving. Ike finally decided I should have a turn at shooting. I got in the back and off we went. Not being as good a shot as Ike, I only managed to roll a few bunnies. Ike stopped and we did a body count. 35 bunnies, two pheasants, one being a hen. We tossed a tarp over them, stowed our guns and headed for a nearby berg with a bar called "Mosey Inn". the barmaid said I could sit in the store room out of sight so I settled in with a handful of Police Gazette's while Ike and some girl named Rite danced to the jukebox. Bad mistake. I helped myself to warm beer and little bags of chips. Sometime later Rita shook me awake and helped Ike into the cab of his truck. Ike was passed out. Rita asked could I drive. I don't know what I answered but I got behind the wheel under my own power. I did my best to keep the old Dodge between fence rows, but a deputy found the truck at the fairgrounds, on the race track, out of gas, full of illegal game, Ike and yours truly sound asleep. Needless to say, this didn't go over good at all. i was confined to the farm, except for school and church. Ike being 22 then, went to jail for a few days. The Korean fight was still raging. A judge told Ike he should really think about enlisting. Ike was becoming well known to the law enforcement people around our county by then.
Ike did enlist, didn't see much action in Korea but stayed in the army long enough to be killed in Nam.
I always felt responsible. Had I not got drunk too, we would have got home ok. I still struggle with that.
He was hoppy on another forum, starting to get a picture of how he chose some usernames...neat.
Didn't know that about his brother.
Dear Ike - not your fault, what a burden to carry around ..................
Ike and Hop together again
Hi All...your comments are so nice about his latest stories, but remember some parts are true & some parts are not, just so he could weave it all into a story..
The Day I Almost Killed Granny
So, one day when little brother Daryl was 5 and I was a should-known-better 9, I wandered out to the big barn, Daryl tagging along right behind. Gramps had parked a hay wagon loaded with loose hay, right under the jay loft door, which was wide open.
I climbed up the ladder to the loft inside the barn. Daryl just had to follow so I pulled him up. We went over to the open loft door and stood there looking around. Granny came out the back door of the house carrying a basket of wet laundry to be hung on the clothesline. Before I gon on, I should further explain the lay of things. From the yard where granny was standing, she could only see the top part of the barn. The lower part was out of sight behind other sheds & bushes. She couldn't see the loaded hay wagon under the loft door.
Daryl was yelling "hey gramma, look", and waving both arms. Granny yelled back to get Daryl away from the edge, he'll fall and break something. So, I stepped back and gave him a shove on the butt with my foot.
Poor granny saw her precious little Daryl launched out the hay loft door, arms & legs flailing, and out of sight behind the sheds in the foreground. She dropped the basket of wet clothes and came running and screaming around the sheds. I swear, I never thought a fat old woman could run so fast. When granny saw Daryl standing on the load of hay laughing, she just collapsed on the ground in a sitting position, holding her heaving chest and gasping for breath.
I panicked, jumped out of the loft, ran into the house to get help. Mom and little sister Angel got granny back into the house, set her in her chair and made her some tea. Then mom shoved me out of the house and told me to stay out of sight the rest of the day.
The womenfolk were very protective of Daryl. He grew up ok in spite of that.
At What Age Was Your First Alcoholic Drink?
Both sides of my family were heavy drinkers. Except Dad & Mom. For some strange reason neither drank. I don't know how that happened. Gramps used to make home brew beer. They say in his younger days he also made whiskey with Uncle Earl but Earl took over the whiskey making later. I remember him bottling up the latest batch one day. He stored the bottled beer in the basement on a row of shelves. Something must have went wrong because later we would hear bottles exploding. Every time one went off, gramps would yell '' dammit''.
I started my drinking career at about the age of 5 or 6 years. Gramps opened a frosty bottle of beer, set it on the table and was busy tuning the kitchen Philco to his favorite news station. That kitchen corner was gramp's spot. An old table radio sat on a small table, gramp's rocker right beside it. We had a parlor radio too. Guess we were rich.
While gramps was busy I grabbed the bottle and chugged down a few swallows. I don't know what it was about that cold, bitter, bubbly liquid, but I took to it like most kids do to soda pop.
Dad & Mom tried to discourage me but I always found beer when I wanted it. Gramps quit making home brew but hid store beer in his room. Later I learned to look in Oke's car or truck. There was usually a few bottles rolling around. In desperation I even drained the remains out of whatever empty bottles I could find.
Brother Daryl got a late start on boozing. He waited until his teens. Once, when he was still married to his first wife, they were living in a rented house half a block from my house. A neighbor called to tell me Daryl was drunk and beating on Amy. I ran over and sure enough. He smacked her aside her head just as I entered. He turned and swung at me and that's the last thing he remembered. I hate mean drunks. During my working career, I bossed crews from time to time. After work we drank. When some of them had a few drinks, they would say things to me they wouldn't dare say sober. Things like "your a nice guy when your drinking". Sober, your an "a*****e". The last time I had to see a doc they pried into my private life on a lot of fronts. Doc started on drinking. When you started, how much, how often, yadayada. Do you use any drugs?
"Do you own any guns and how many"?
"I'm not here 'cause I shot myself".
"I know but we have to ask".
He knew that was a lie so he wrote 'no' with a question mark behind it.
Next to lawyers, I hate docs. I guess I'm adapting too well to this modern 'enlightened' age. Every day I thank God I got to live in better days.
@Ike Willis Thanks "Ike" for another great story. And thanks Bethanne for taking the time to share it with us. Have a blessed day.
Wonder How Old Guys Are When They See Their First Live Naked Woman.
One summer day, I think I was 8, I was told to mow the lawn. All we had was an old iron wheeled push lawn mower. No motor. It was boy powered. It took me near all day to mow with that thing. To make matters worse, my 4 year old brother Daryl, was constantly running, standing or sitting in front of the mower. But mom asked me to watch him while she, granny and my sister Angel did some housework. Dad and gramps were off somewhere in the truck, probably another farm auction. My big brother Ike went to town on some pretext. Ike had a new girl friend who worked at the "he ain't here bar & grill". So I didn't expect to see Ike until maybe tomorrow.
So, I was stuck with Daryl. Then I got an idea to get him out of the way. I ran up to my room and found the old, cheap pair of handcuffs Ike gave me. He warned me not to lock them because the key didn't always work so well. Outside, I ask Daryl if he wanted to play cops & robbers. Sure. So, I told him he's the robber and chased him a bit, wrestled him around in the grass, which he likes, then told him he's under arrest. We needed a jail. The old wooden wheeled farm wagon parked behind the garage gave me an idea. I took him to it, told him to get under it and pretend the wooden wagon wheel spokes were jail bars, then I cuffed him by one wrist to a spoke. I said he was sentenced to 10 years, I'd be back to let him out then. He was fine when I left.
Well, I finished the yard about the time dad and gramps got home. It was almost supper time so we all washed up and seated ourselves at the table. Mom looked at us, then asked where's Daryl. Oh s**t. I jumped up and ran out to the old wagon. There he was, asleep in the shade under the wagon. He'd been crying and peed himself. I woke him while trying to unlock the cuffs. Damn, the key wasn't working. Mom kept calling and finally come out to see what was taking so long. She got dad and gramps. Dad couldn't open the cuffs either. I could imagine a whipping coming. Gramps had a look at them, got a thin feeler gauge out of the garage and opened them in no time. A trick he learned the hard way, he said.
Well, I got to eat supper but had to go to my room right after. I was tired anyway. I wanted to get an early start in the morning, on my chores. The maybe, a movie if Ike could be persuaded.
The next morning I was up early. Breakfast was being prepared as I ran out the back door and to the outhouse. My bladder was about to burst. I flung open the outhouse door and...WAAAH! There sat a totally naked woman. Quick as I could tear myself away, I ran behind the workshop and peed like a racehorse. Back in the kitchen I stood there, eyes still bugged out, trying to speak. Mom asked what in the world was the matter. I stammered out about the naked woman right there in our outhouse. After they all got done laughing it up, mom told me Ike's gal pal came home with him last night. She was wearing Ike's robe when she went out there but must have taken it off to do her business. I got a biscuit throwed at my head by granny when I mentioned the girl had big boobs. Gramps just cackled and grinned.
@Ike Willis Wonderful story! Always loved rural life, though it took a lifetime of city-living to finally achieve it. By then, well, nekkid ladies were just that.......
Fab story !
You were "incorrigible" for sure @Ike Willis And a great storyteller!
We Get A New Bathroom
It happened in my 9th or 10th year, I forget which. Dad and gramps were to the back of our farm, over some hills out of sight, rebuilding a section of fence. Big brother Ike was in the barn, working on one of our two AC's tractors. I was helping by changing the oil while he worked on the generator, replacing the brushes and new fan belts. When I was about 7 or 8, I was taught to regularly change oil in everything we had that had a motor. Dad said he'd rather buy oil than new engines. Anyway I could crawl under the car and truck easier than the old folks.
A whole lot of screaming and yelling from over near the house, got our attention. Ike and I both got to the door in time to see flames and smoke coming from a bit beyond the house about where the outhouse sat. Mom, granny and Angel were busy fetching buckets of water from the pumphouse. There wasn't much we could do. The fire had too good a start before anyone noticed it. We saved the hole though, I pointed out, trying to be funny.
No one knew where Daryl was. We yelled his name, then went looking. Dad and gramps just happened to come back about then. They were plenty upset as they helped look for Daryl. Gramps found Daryl in the machine shed, hiding in an old wagon under a tarp. His sobing gave him away. The bawling Daryl was drug over to Dad, who wanted an explanation, NOW. It was then that I suddenly found myself in deep doo doo.
Daryl sobbed out about how I would put a strike kitchen match in the barrel of my old Daisy BB gun and shoot it at a hard surface. Upon hitting something hard, the match would make a satisfying "pop" then burst into flame. Pretty awesome stuff for a 6 year old Daryl. And that is what he was doing in the patch of dead weeds behind the outhouse. Mom hugged her little Daryl saying ''so that's where all my matches have been going''. Dad gave me an evil look and started removing his belt. I knew a whipping was coming. Gramps was yelling, ''dang it, where are we gonna crap now. Ya needs a good thrashin''. Gramps had a mean streak.
Big brother Ike grabbed me by the arm and hustled me off to the barn saying something about needing me to help finish our work, thus saving me a swat or two on the butt. Dad's whippings never amounted to much. They were mostly for show, I think. I knew mom wouldn't let no one touch her Daryl. Our new bathroom wasn't really new. Dad and gramps cleared away the remains of the burned one. Beside the workshop was an old, unused smokehouse. About the same size as our outhouse. The men drug it over and positioned it over the hole and gramps made a seat and floor out of scrap lumber. Next day Dad gave me some cans of white paint and a brush and orders to paint her good, inside and out.
I never saw my BB gun again either.
Ever Pee Out the Window?
My little brother Daryl and I shared an upstairs bedroom. We had one window. Since Daryl had a weak bladder and was too afraid of the dark to run out to the outhouse at night, he kept a coffee can under his bed. It was his "peecan". It stunk up the whole bedroom.
So, one summer night Daryl woke, bladder bursting. He went into a panic, not finding his peecan where it should be. His commotion woke me. He was getting frantic by then. Thinking quickly, I shoved him over to our open window and told him to let it fly out the window through the screen. It worked like a charm. He didn't use his peecan again the rest of the summer.
The only thing under our window was one of mom's many flower beds. Mom noticed her flowers there were dying. So, she replanted with a different species, thinking maybe something else would do better there. Wrong. They died too. Poor mom struggled all summer with that bed, unable to figure out what was wrong. Flowers thrived there the past summer. What could be wrong?
The great flower mystery was solved later, after we got our first snow. Dad noticed all the yellow snow under Daryl and my bedroom window. He showed it to mom. She confronted Daryl and myself at supper that evening. I expected some kind of punishment but none forthcoming. Dad sat there grinning. Gramps said we should change Daryl's name to "whizzer". Then the little snotbucket had to spill his guts. "He does it too. Sometimes we see who kin shoot the farthest, sometimes I win".
Well, we had to endure gramps calling us whizzer 1 and whizzer 2 for awhile. The following spring dad made me and Daryl replace the screen wire on our window. Our urine rotted the old one out.
Fun days !!
#89 reminds me of a hilarious scene in a Richard Dreyfuss/Nick Nolte movie, something like "Down and Out In Beverly Hills (?). Dreyfuss is a well-to-do family man, Nolte, a transient, a bum, who takes to sleeping amongst Dreyfuss' landscaping, uses a certain spot in the flower garden to relieve himself. Dreyfuss discovers it, with the resulting line, very loud and angry, "Someone is pissing on my Hydrangeas!"
It was one of the funniest scenes I could remember! Reminded me of my Mother's own hapless Hydrangea in our back yard when I was small. Not subjected to abuse, mind you, but caused consternation because year after year, it refused to bloom!