I woke up easter morning thinking about what I had done to Netty's kids Easter gifts. I left Bruce's house and walked over to Netty's. I knocked on the door. Netty opened the dorr and said, "Good morning George." If she was mad at me for getting sick all over the Easter gifts she didn't show it. I told her how sorry I was, and I meant it.

I left Netty's and started walking home. Again, like when walking to Washburn, I was taking the short cut home. This would take me back into the woods I was so afraid of. I knew the more times I walkede into those woods the more likely someday I would run into a bear, but it never happened. I never saw a live bear the whole time I lived in Maine.

When I got home Mum was in the kitchen. She didn't ask me anything about what I did in Washburn, instead she told me all about what she had heard I had done in Washburn.I knew by what she was telling me Netty had called, and reported my drunkeness to her.Mum leaned over the table and wiped some little crumbs of it. Mum said, "your father is mad at you. He doesn't want you hanging out in Washburn with those grown ups any more. He knows you were drinking." I asked Mum where Dad was. She said, "Oh, you know your father he's out driving around visiting all the farmers." I said, "I wish I made it back in time to go with him. Mum kept cleaning as she talked. "Well, if you would stay home instead of tramp the streets you would be able to go, but your father never knows where you are, so he can't just go and pick you up and take you with him." I told Mum they both knew I was in washburn with my friends. Mum said, "Oh honey they aren't your friends, they are to old to be your friends, you are just a boy, those are grown-ups and your father is going to make you stop going over there." Even though everything my parents said to me made sense, I pretended like what they had to say didn't matter.I loved my mother and father, but it just wasn't cool to let them know you loved them, and my friends also let me know how uncool it was to always obey my parents, so I was now becoming a little terror.

No matter what I did, my father always kept calm.I can't remember Dad ever raising his voice at me, and he never ever gave me so much as a slap on the rear-end.Lokking back I think he should have at least put chains on me to keep me home, and tape over my mouth to shut me up when I got mouthy.

I was only home for about one-hour when dad pulled into the driveway. I walked out onto the porch to greet Dad. I asked dad where he went and what he did. Dad and I walked into the house. I knew dad was going to say something about me spending time in Washburn and drinking.He just had that look in his eyes.And, I was right, dad did want to talk.

Dad sat down at the kitchen table where he had sat since I could remember, which was the chair right next to the stove. His back would be at the stove, while he faced the front door, which gave him full view of the driveway. This way he could see if we had any company coming. To me it was never a question of if we had company coming, but if we had any company leaving. Our house was popular. Dad and Mum always had friends over and so did us kids.

Dad let out one of the big yawns I had heard him do a few thousand times in my life. "Vie honey, why don't you make us some tea." Dad said. I sat down at the table with Dad and Mum.Everyone in my family sat in the same chair at the table for as long as I could remember. I always sat in the chair next to Mum next to the doorway to the boys bedroom, and Mum sat with her back to the front kitchen door. Our family spent hours sitting around the kitchen table talking. Dad made it a point to have all the family together whenever all of us were home, which was becoming more and more rare all the time. Us teenagers were especially hard to keep around fror more than a few hours at a time. Dad liked hearing about what was going on in our lives. I was never afraid of Dad. I could talk to him about anything. I did know when Dad was upset with me though and I could tell this was one of those times. Even though dad was upset I still was not afraid.

Dad started talking about how he hopes none of his kids ever end up in jail.I knew my lecture was coming now, because whenever Dad was ready to give a lecture he always brought growing up and going to jail into the lecture. Dad looked at me and said, "Son, you know I don't mind you having friends, but I don't approve of you hanging out in Washburn with those older kids and the adults. All they do over there is drink and smoke that pot. I don't want you to get mixed up in that stuff son, it will ruin your life.' I was never one to just sit and listen. I had to have my say too. I looked at my father. I was half mad at Dad for butting into my business and half ashamed of myself for getting mixed up in the things my father was telling me about. I said to my father, "I can hang out with anyone I want to, and I am old enough to do whatever I want to do." Mum reached over and tapped me on the arm. "Don't you talk to your father that way,"she said. I asked her, "How come he can tell me who I can, and can't hang out with, and what I can and can't do?" Mum said, "because he's your father and doesn't want you to get into trouble." I stood up and went to my bedroom. Dad called to me, "son, what are you doing?" I answered back, "I am getting some more clothes, so I can go back to washburn." I heard Dad get up from the table. I knew he was coming in to the bedroom to try and reason with me, but it would not do him any good, because even though I loved my father and really wanted to stay there with him and Mum I had promised my friends in washburn I would be back as soon as I got some clean clothes.

Dad was standing in the doorway leaning on the door casing. Dad said, "Son, I can't let you go back to Washburn. you are going to have to stay home." I was furious. "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME STAY HOME!" I screamed.Even though Dad was mad he still spoke very softly, and remained calm. "Listen to me mister man, you're not going to washburn and that's final." I said, "Good, I will just go when you're not home." Dad said, "If you go to Washburn I am going to start selling your animals." I looked at Dad and said, "If you sell any of my animals I am going to sell your too!" I walked past Dad and went back into the kitchen and sat back down at the table. dad sat back down at the table also.

Mum picked up where dad left off. "When you go to Washburn your brothers have to take care of your animals for you. You wanted all those animals so you better start staying home and taking care of them or your father is going to sell them all." I sat at the table with my lips pulled together tight. This meant one of two things. I was pouting or I was mad. I think this time it was a little of both.

dad was never short on hugs when it came to me, and he told me almost everyday he loved me. Dad walked over to me and hugged me. He said, "Come on son, lets go for a ride." I got up and followed Dad outside to his pickup. We spent the rest of the day riding around visiting people and stopping at stores getting sodas and candy bars.And, we talked about my life. Dad mentioned to me how he would have never guessed I would be wild when I was a teenager. I had to admit it surprised me too. I was always the one who liked being home working with the animals and planting gardens, and now here I was 14, and "tramping the streets" as my parents and brothers and sisters called it.

Still, every chance I got I headed to Washburn.Dad and Mum would call my friends and ask if I were there? I would be sitting right by the phone when my friends would lie and say,"We haven't seen him." And, everytime I went home I got the same lecture and I went on my same woe is me routine.

I found out how serious Dad was about getting rid of my animals that summer, When I decided it was time to go home and get cleaned up and get some food into my stomach, after hanging out in Washburn with my friends for several days.

I got home one day and went directly to the barn to see my goat. She was gone. I ran into the house screaming, "WHERE IS MY GOAT? YOU GUYS BETTER HAVE NOT SOLD HER!!!" Mum said, "We told you if you didn't stay home we were selling your animals. A man stopped in to buy some of your fathers cows, and you father sold him your goat too!" I couldn't believe how mad I was about my father selling my goat considering I was never home to see her anyway.Dad was in the livingroom. I walked in and stood beside him. "You wait until you are at work. I am gonna sell your animals and then we'll see how you like it." Dad looked up at me and said, "I'll tell you what son, you better not sell any of my animals." That was the end of it.

I started staying home more often, which probably got my parents wishing they had kept quiet about my days and nights spent in washburn. Now, I was home almost daily to torment them, and torment them I did. But there was a reason I was staying home so much.

When Dad and Mum would leave in the morning I would make up signs and nail them onto sticks. I would then hammer the sticks into the front lawn by the road. I would walk out to the road to make sure my signs were big enough to read. people passing by were able to read the signs just fine. On the signs I had written things such as," Baby bunnies for sale" or "chickens, ducks and turkeys for sale." I would have a few people a day stop and buy animals from me. I was charging one-dollar for each animal sold and if they bought more than one or were very nice I would throw in a free animal. I had myself a good little money making business going for the summer, but I did have to close up shop before Dad and Mum got home from work.

One day all my brothers and sisters were complaining to Dad about how I always had money and they didn't. Dad was giving me credit for being able to save money, and how the rest of my brothers and sisters should be smart like me and save too.Shelley wasn't about to Dad brag me up like he was.Shelley said, "George only has money because he sells your animals while you and Mum are at work." I almost stopped breathing. I swallowed hard. I had been ratted on. I figured Dad was going to be very mad, but he just looked at Shelley and said, "Well Shelley my dear, it might not be honest of George to sell my animals but at least he has spending money. " and then Dad started laughing.I was relieved Dad had so much patience with me again. It wasn't long before I was eye balling bigger bigger animals like Dads cows and thinking about the money I would have if I were to sell a couple of them, but I figured even Dad had to have a breaking point, so I never did go that far, but somedays The temptation was there and I really had to fight to keep my wicked side under control.I spent the rest of the summer selling Dads smaller animals. I was making out like a bandit. I didn't have to pay a cent for their upkeep and I pocketed every penny I got for them.

To this day my brothers and sisters tell me I was always treated special. They say in a whiney sarcatic tone, "What ever little George wanted he got, but let one of us ask for something, and it was always the same ole thing from Dad, NOOOOOOOOOO, if you want it go get a job, but if George wanted another horse all he had to do was tell Dad, and then the next day walk up to the barn and there was another horse for him." Now, I can say this isn't true. I remember twice when Dad would not get me the horse I wanted. both times Dad looked over the horse and said, "Son, I wouldn't feel right letting you have that horse. I can see the devil in it's eyes, I am afraid that horse will kill you. Sorry son, I just can't do it." Of course I would pout and carry on but Dad stood firm those two times. I always wondered if I got either of those horses if I would be here today.

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

Answers

George, You'll never convince me that Dad didn't get you everything you wanted. He always. You said it yourself he wanted to get you those horses, but he didn't like them. That's the only reason you didn't get them. We all know that I was spoiled also, by mom. (I know you would have responded back with this. Beat you to it.)

Keep em laughing.

Love Ya

-- Bobby FL (rsm1962@msn.com), February 20, 2002.

Bobby, I feel pretty honored. I have never known you to be much of a reader, which makes me wonder why it is you, who has the brains? Yes, I will say without hesitation, you were, and still are spoiled by Mum. At least Dad finally gave up on me. I was thinking of calling him and asking him for a pony for my birthday. Think he'll go for it? Love you little brother!

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

Do you have any idea how lucky you were to have such parents? Wow. They were SAINTS, George, and Bobby.

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

I'm still glad you're not my kid!

I'm also glad you and your brother obviously still love each other! If you were my brother, they might have found YOU thawing out inside that cow come spring!

-- Christine in OK (cljford@mmcable.com), February 21, 2002.

yes Bob you are still spoiled rotten, and George I am mad at you, I never knew how spoiled you were until I read this story, sounds to me like you were a spoiled little brat! once again another cute and funny story. Happy B-Day George Love Ya Deneen

-- Deneen Fl (Gradydubose@aol.com), February 23, 2002.

George! I can't believe your father put up with you like that. Bobby - you have my sympathies! But your brother sure can tell his stories! And they are excellent!

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

Michael, looking back I know I deserved one good butt warming. My father was very patient with me, and I think you will be happy to know I have turned out alright dispite not getting a good spanking from time to time. And yes, I will agree with all of you, "I WAS A BRAT!" I think today I'm what you would call, "a-goody-two-shoes."

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 24, 2002.