I don't know what I was thinking in 1975. It seemed I did everything wrong, while my parents tried so hard to get me to do everything right. I was even hanging around with a group of people my parents did not approve of, but to me, a boy of 14, I thought I was plenty old enough to decide on my own who I would, or would not hang around with, and I figured I was certainly old enough to decide just what I was going in my life.

I had relatives who lived in Washburn Maine, which was just one town over from my hometown. If you were to drive the roadway it was about 11 miles to Washburn, but if I were to give up a ride and decide to walk, Washburn was only about two-miles away. I usually ended up walking to Washburn anyway since my parents would have rather seen me spend my free time in another town where the kids weren't out looking for trouble.

To get to Washburn from my house, by walking, all I had to do was cut across the potato fields, which were behind our house. Once I had walked across several acres of potato fields, all I had to do was walk through some trees, and then I would be on the road that would take me into Washburn.

As I would walk across the potato field, I would think about all the times I had seen Dad out working those fields for the farmer he worked for. I never stepped on any of the plants, I always made sure my footsteps were well enough paced so my feet would land in the furrow between the plant rows. Dad always made it a point to tell us kids how important it was to respect each potato plant, because what grew underneath each plant could be dinner for one family.I also had respect for those plants because it was my father who I saw day after day working those fields, and I knew how hard he worked to keep those fields looking good, with no bare spots, where someone had stepped on a plant or where plants had been killed off by insects.

Once I made it to the trees I would get nervous. I don't know why but I always imagined a bear lurking behind every tree, ready to grab me when I was within reach.Even though I had never seen a live bear in my life. I never saw a live bear, but it seemed everyone else I knew had, so I did know bears were around, and Dad would come home several times and point down towards the trees and say, "Son, I saw myself a bear today standing right on the edge of those trees. " I was always upset I wasn't with him when he saw the bears, I just wanted to see one at least once in my life, but I didn't want to see it eye-to-eye with just me there to fend for myself should it attack me.I did see bear foot prints all the time though, in the mud puddles that would form on the dirt road that seperated the trees from the potato fields.So, everytime I got close to the trees I would stop and search the shodows of the trees as best as I could. Even though my heart would be racing from fear I would put on a brave front and walk bravely into the dark forest. I would instantly start singing out loud. I figured this way a bear would hear me and have time to run away before I got to close and surprised it, which I had always heard could be one of the worst things to do. Sometimes if I was felling really cowardly I would talk to myself in several voices hoping if a bear were near it would think there was a gruop of people approaching, and to me a group of people seemed more frightening to a bear than one scrawny 14-year-old boy.It always amazed me when I would make it out of the woods alive. Once out of the woods I would run across the road to get to the other side where there were fewer trees to conceal a lurking bear.

I would evntually make it into the town of Washburn and all thoughts of bears would quickly fade away. Now my thoughts would turn to finding people to hang out with.

One day while in Washburn I could not find anyone to hang out with so I went to my aunts to visit. My aunt Linda had lived in Washburn for a few years. Her husband was from there and his family lived just a few houses down from them

I got to my aunts house and walked in. No one knocked on each others door in those days. Everyone just walked in, and no one was surprised to see anyone they knew just barg in. Only strangers knocked. On this day my aunt had company, they were sitting at the kitchen table talking. They both had a cup of coffee. My aunt Linda and I talked small talk for a few minutes. Every so often she would catch me glancing at her company. Linda started laughing at me and asked, "George, why do you keep looking at Bruce?"I could feel myself turning bright red. I said to Linda, "That's not a guy, that's a girl!" I continued on, "That is Ruthy Baby, isn't it?" My aunt started laughing so hard tears started rolling down her cheeks. "That is not Ruth, That is my neighbor Bruce." Linda said still laughing. I could see this was going to be an arguement. I figured Linda was pulling my leg.

Ruthy Baby was my aunts best friend from Castle Hill, Maine. They lived right next door to each other while growing up. I had always liked Ruthy Baby and hoped to someday see her again someday, since it had been years since I last saw her.I don't know where Ruth got the name,"Ruthy Baby" but that is what everyone always called her.

Linda started questioning me on why I thought it was Ruthy Baby sitting at the table with her."Well, for one it looks like Ruthy Baby. And, she has boobs like Ruthy Baby." I could see Lindas company was starting to feel uneasy. I was still red because of being so unsure if I were really looking at a guy or Ruthy Baby. Linda was having a great time with all this. I think if she could she would have kept it going on for years, but her company must have been feeling so uncomfortable about it all that he had to put a stop to this.

Lindas company stood up and lifted his shirt. 'Does this look like a girls chest?" I was asked. "Kind of" I answered. Now I really felt stupid. I was then asked by Lindas friend, "Do I need to drop my pants to prove I'm a guy?" I felt like I was melting. I had sweat running down my face. I was getting so embarrassed. I sure wished I had taken Lindas word for it about her company being a guy.Then her company pulled out a drivers license and handed it to me. Yup! sure enough the name on the drivers license was Bruce and the sex was male. I was finally convinced, but now I was also disappointed because I was hoping it was Ruthy Baby.

Bruce was a little chubby and at 16-years-old still had some baby fat to shed. I started hanging out with Bruce and his friends almost every weekend. It was nice to hang out with an older crowd. I was the youngest of the group in Washburn who chummed around together. Bruce was next in order and then there were several who were 17 and 18 years-old at the time.

The one thing my new friends liked to do was party. In the beginning I never really got into the party stuff. I was just as happy to sit back and watch what everyone else was doing.But, one day there was a party with much older people there and it was the older people who hounded me about not being a man for not drinking beer with them. After awhile of the older people peatering me and making me feel like a complete fool for not joining them I decided one glass of beer would not hurt me. I grabbed the biggest plastic cup I could find and filled it to the top with the beer from the keg. I hated the taste of beer so I knew I would have to drink it in one big gulp just to get it down my throat.I made it through the first cup then I got another cup, and another, and another. I lost track of how many beers I had but I had quite a few.

It was after dark when Bruce and I decided to head out. I was going to stay at Bruce's house that night.We left the party and started walking down the street. Bruce said we had to go to the store and get something. As we walked to the store I felt my legs starting to feel like rubber. It seemed like every pebble I stepped on made me lose my balance. I started walking in a zig-zag fashion. Bruce was laughing at me, he thought it was real funny seeing me a bit tipsy.I was laughing right along with Bruce, although I wasn't sure why we were laughing, all I knew was I was having fun. At one point a stick on the side of the road caught onto my left foot and I fell into the ditch. I struggled to get up but wasn't having much luck so Bruce had to help me up.

We finally nmade it to the store. The owner was there and he greeted us with a nice, friendly hello. Bruce and I walked around the store laughing out loud at anything that struck us as being funny, which at could have been just about anything considering the shape we were in. in. Finally the store owner walked over to us and asked, "Are you two boys drunk?" both Bruce and I instantly said, "NO!" Bruce asked the store owner why he would think we were drunk? The store owner, who knew both of us said, "because I have never seen you two act silly like this before." Again, Bruce and I said we weren't drunk.

I don't remember if we got what we went to the store for or not.I do hope if we got what we went to the store for we remembered to stop at the checkout and pay for it.

Our next stop was at Bruce's neighbors house. Not only was Netty Bruce's neighbor, but she was also another relative of mine. Netty was related to my family through marriage. I always liked Netty, she was always very nice to everyone. Her little brother Gary and I hung around with each other in school, which gave Netty and I something to talk about while I was at her house.

I was sitting on the sofa. I started feeling like I was a ship on the ocean being tossed and turned. I told Bruce we had to go. Netty stopped me from getting up off the sofa. "George, are you drunk?" I looked at Bruce as if to say, "We've been caught again." I then looked at Netty as best as I could out of the one eye I had focused on her. I answered Netty in a very slurred voice, "No I'm not drunk Netty, you know I don't drink." Netty then said she believed I was drunk and she then blamed Bruce and my other older friends for leading me down a road to alcoholism. Netty was fairly religious, so we knew we had better get out of there fast before she got started.

Bruce and I walked out onto Netty's front porch Netty was right behind us telling us all the things that alcohol does to people and how many peoples lives she has seen it ruin.

As Netty was talking I sniffed the air. "OH GROSS!!!" I said. Bruce sniffed the air also. I sniffed the air again. "I smell a skunk, and it is close by!" I said as I lifted my hand to cover my nose. All of a sudden the ship in my stomach really started twisting and turning. In my mind all I could pitcher was I was a ship in the ocean and there was a whirl pool trying to such me in, but as soon as I would start to go down the funnel of water I would pop back up to the surface just in time to be sucked down again.

I placed both hands over my mouth and mumbled through my hands that I was going to be sick. Bruce told me to take a deep breath. I took my hands away from my mouth and took a deep breath, but all I got was skunk smell. I placed both my hands back over my mouth. I felt my stomach muscles tighten then relax, tighten then relax. Each time my stomach mucles would tighten my shoulders would thrust forward, and as my stomach mucles relaxed my shoulders would be thrown back.

I did everything I could to control myself. I tried to calm myself down. In my mind I kept telling myself to quit thinking about the ship caught in the whirlpool, but it was no good, I was to far gone.Now, not only was my body pulsating uncontrollably, but I was also making funny noises in my throat. The whole time all this is going on with me, Netty and Bruce were right by my side trying to calm me down.It seemed like every breath I took I got my lungs full of skunk. I swear the skunk may as well have crawled right into my mouth, because the air smelled that bad.

I am sure all of this lasted only a couple of minutes but to me it seemed like at least a halh hour. It sure was a lot of hard work trying to convince myself I was going to be o.k. Finally no amount of convincing was going to work. I just couldn't hold off any longer. I wanted to run off the porch, but Bruce was blocking the way. I looked around the porch and there I saw my chance to empty my stomach. I ran to the trash and opened the bag. As I thrust my face into the bag I heard Netty screaming, "NO GEORGE! NO GEORGE!" And then I felt every bit of beer I had drank earlier in the night make its way up my throat. Stll, Netty was screaming at me. In no time at all the beer was out of my body.As my face was still buried in the bag I heard Netty sigh and say in a low moanful voice, "Oh George, that bag is not the trash, it is my kids Easter gifts." If I thought I felt terrible before now I felt more than terrible, I felt horrible. I may have been a 14-year-old, sick drunkard, but I still had enough sense left in me to know how bad what I had just done was. I appologized to Netty, and Netty assured me it would be o.k. Bruce and I left Netty's and I spent the better part of the night sick. I kept promising myself, "I would never drink again," and, I didn't touch alcohol for years, and years, and years.

The next day when I got home I found out the news of the night before had reached Dad and Mum, already!

To be continuied...

The threat Dad made to me and how he kept it and what I did to get even. (Animal wars)

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 19, 2002

Answers

Oh, George, I'll be looking forward to the conclusion of this one!

You gave yourself away - all this time, by the stories you tell, I assumed you must be the Grandfatherly type, and here you are only a few years older than me! I can certainly say I lead a BORING childhood life in comparison to yours! I guess having other siblings around probably encouraged you, huh? The "What one doesn't think of, the other one will" theory!

-- Christine in OK (cljford@mmcable.com), February 19, 2002.

Hi Christine.I am sorry, I know lots of you have mentioned grandfather in your post and e-mails. I will turn 41 on Feb 21. I had a great time being a kid and I am thankful I grew up in such a large family and we lived in the country and were poor. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have so many siblings. I sure don't think I would have much to write about. It's like I tell people, "My stories are like Little House On The Prairie meeting up with The Little Rascals running into The Waltons along the way and then all of them running full speed into Married With Children." I think I'll leave the Married With Children out of this book though.

Thanks for reading the story. Part two will be the fun part of the story. George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 19, 2002.

Amazing and amusing, always. Thank you, George.

-- Nina (Ingardenwithcat@hotmail.com), February 20, 2002.

Great one George! I somehow feel proud that George and I are the same age. At least we have that in common. Groupies always want to have somthing in common with their heroes!

-- Debbie in MO (risingwind@socket.net), February 20, 2002.

Hi Nina. Glad you like the story, and thank you for reading.

Debbie, LOL I sure got a chuckle from your post. You are so sweet.

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 20, 2002.

Good story George. Can't wait to see part 2! I am amazed that you are only in your 40's and can remember your childhood so well. I am only 35, and I can't remember what I did an hour ago let alone 20 years ago. Alas, alzheimers has set in already!

-- Michael W. Smith in North-West Pennsylvania (kirklbb@penn.com), February 24, 2002.