As a kid I enjoyed being around and spending time with my brothers and sisters, Mike and Roger in particular, and also Dennis because he was closest to me in age (still is). And then there was Arnold (my oldest brother) who was little else but mean to me. He had an abrasive personality in general, but for some reason he had no tolerance for me.
One incident, as I recall, I was being transported by Arnold out to our house in the sticks from the village in his pickup truck. He drove very fast and took the corners hard, which was probably his usual way of driving but scared the shit out of me and I asked him to slow down. “Shut up, kid!” was all I got in response.
By the time I was in my late teens, Arnie and I got along fine.
Fall Down, Go Boom
On one of those rare occasions when a friend stayed overnight at our house out in the boonies, we had an interesting experience. Well, it was interesting for Dennis, anyway, and I suppose “interesting” wouldn’t be the right word to describe it.
Anyways, it was John Wilson and he and I shared the bottom bunk of the bunk beds Dennis & I used. In the morning (I think it was a Saturday) John and I were awake in the bottom bunk chatting, and we decided to tug on the sheet which hung down over the side of Dennis’s bed above. We did so tug a little, then went back to chatting. Not hearing anything stirring above us, we tugged a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more, essentially dragging Dennis to the edge of his bed. We were sure he was awake and playing along with us. Turns out he was dead asleep, and the last and final tug brought him down on the hardwood floor WHAM-O!
Upon hitting said floor, Dennis jumped up and ran out of the room and down the stairs to who knows where. John and I wondered out loud what that was all about and went back to chatting, not grasping the gravity of the situation (pun definitely intended). We eventually got up and went downstairs to find Dennis seated at the breakfast table consuming a bowl of some cereal with a far-off glazed-over look. I don’t think we saw Dennis for the rest of the day, not that it particularly mattered to us at the time.
Not too many years ago I brought this up to Dennis who confirmed he was asleep until he hit the floor, and that he was hurt - bad. He should have seen a doctor, but in those days if you could stand upright and manage somewhat coherent English, you’re fine.
Anyways, it was John Wilson and he and I shared the bottom bunk of the bunk beds Dennis & I used. In the morning (I think it was a Saturday) John and I were awake in the bottom bunk chatting, and we decided to tug on the sheet which hung down over the side of Dennis’s bed above. We did so tug a little, then went back to chatting. Not hearing anything stirring above us, we tugged a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more, essentially dragging Dennis to the edge of his bed. We were sure he was awake and playing along with us. Turns out he was dead asleep, and the last and final tug brought him down on the hardwood floor WHAM-O!
Upon hitting said floor, Dennis jumped up and ran out of the room and down the stairs to who knows where. John and I wondered out loud what that was all about and went back to chatting, not grasping the gravity of the situation (pun definitely intended). We eventually got up and went downstairs to find Dennis seated at the breakfast table consuming a bowl of some cereal with a far-off glazed-over look. I don’t think we saw Dennis for the rest of the day, not that it particularly mattered to us at the time.
Not too many years ago I brought this up to Dennis who confirmed he was asleep until he hit the floor, and that he was hurt - bad. He should have seen a doctor, but in those days if you could stand upright and manage somewhat coherent English, you’re fine.
Shady Deals
We had one car in the family in those days. Actually, Arnie had his own vehicle, as did Roger. Mom didn’t drive and didn’t appear to be in a hurry to learn. Anyways, it was an exciting event when we got a new used car from “Shady Deals” which was the local car dealer. I thought that was the actual name of the business because that’s what everyone called it. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I happen to discover it was actually “Palmyra Motors”.
Dad, on the wall of his little art studio at home, had a pencil drawing of “the Spook” - a tall, lanky, spooky-looking guy in black who, as I was told, was one of the more notable salesmen at Shady Deals.
Dad, on the wall of his little art studio at home, had a pencil drawing of “the Spook” - a tall, lanky, spooky-looking guy in black who, as I was told, was one of the more notable salesmen at Shady Deals.
Valerie
One auspicious evening, Rita’s friend Valerie had me in her lap and wouldn’t go. She hugged me and kissed me and told me how cute and adorable I was. This went on for some time. I feigned a struggle to escape, but the truth is I loved every second of it and was disappointed when she finally let me go.
More Roger
Roger would show up occasionally, I assume home on leave from the Navy. His friends would show up, too, in the form of a music band - The New Order. They played at our house a couple times - once outdoors and once in the living room (which was exceedingly loud. I didn't like it, as loud noises bothered me as a kid). They were quite good, as I recall, and I somewhat remember a couple of their songs and can play them on the guitar..maybe.
Mom, Dad, Rita, Dennis, and I would, occasionally, record our voices on a cassette tape and send it to Roger while he was deployed. Sometimes we would sing a song to him. I remember one where we used an existing tune and made up our own lyrics, something about Roger being a sailor. He told us he enjoyed them immensely. I recall that he recorded one of himself aboard ship and sent it to us. Such was communication before the days of the Internet, though it was relatively high tech for the time – being able to hear a voice vs only having a letter to read.
Mom, Dad, Rita, Dennis, and I would, occasionally, record our voices on a cassette tape and send it to Roger while he was deployed. Sometimes we would sing a song to him. I remember one where we used an existing tune and made up our own lyrics, something about Roger being a sailor. He told us he enjoyed them immensely. I recall that he recorded one of himself aboard ship and sent it to us. Such was communication before the days of the Internet, though it was relatively high tech for the time – being able to hear a voice vs only having a letter to read.
My Art
I’ve done 1 painting in my lifetime (so far). I was just a wee lad and my dad stretched a canvas for me and let me go to town on it with a pile of magic markers of varying colors. Somebody had the presence of mind to take a picture of it, albeit not very clear and part of it cropped, which is all that is left as the original is long gone:
Uncle Jon
My eldest brother Arnie and his wife Pat had a baby – Mary, my niece – so I became “Uncle Jon” at age 7. I bragged about this at school as it was a novelty amongst the kids in my class, plus it made me feel/sound more mature than I actually was.
Here's a picture of me and Mary plus somebody's hand reaching into the scene:
One thing of note: when Pat was pregnant she wore blue eye shadow. I assume she didn’t all the time, but the only time I recall seeing her whilst pregnant she did. It was a bright, striking blue and I wondered if she put it on her eyes or if all pregnant women had this as a medical condition resulting from pregnancy. Kids have strange thoughts.
A year after Mary, came Hollie (named either because she was born close to Christmas or in honor of the maker of fine carburetors) and I was Uncle Jon to 2 nieces, which upped my status even more.
Here's a picture of me and Mary plus somebody's hand reaching into the scene:
One thing of note: when Pat was pregnant she wore blue eye shadow. I assume she didn’t all the time, but the only time I recall seeing her whilst pregnant she did. It was a bright, striking blue and I wondered if she put it on her eyes or if all pregnant women had this as a medical condition resulting from pregnancy. Kids have strange thoughts.
A year after Mary, came Hollie (named either because she was born close to Christmas or in honor of the maker of fine carburetors) and I was Uncle Jon to 2 nieces, which upped my status even more.
The Boxer
Dad had a large painting of his hung up on the living room wall. It was of a boxer (human, not dog) seated against the ropes of a boxing ring and down for the count. Apparently, Dad saw this scene at a boxing match in Iowa and some time later captured it in oil paint on canvas. My brother Dennis has the painting rolled up in a tube and said he would send it to me. Once I have it, I’ll take a picture of it and post it here.
Anyways, as the result of indoor horseplay, I whipped a small plastic football at Dennis who ducked, so the football smacked into the painting on the wall and left an indent with concentric circles of broken paint surface. It wasn't (and presumably still isn't) terribly noticeable except if you look at it at certain angles. I don't recall how much trouble I got into for that. Dad remembers the incident, still to this day.
I consider it my contribution to dad's artwork.
And here it is:
Anyways, as the result of indoor horseplay, I whipped a small plastic football at Dennis who ducked, so the football smacked into the painting on the wall and left an indent with concentric circles of broken paint surface. It wasn't (and presumably still isn't) terribly noticeable except if you look at it at certain angles. I don't recall how much trouble I got into for that. Dad remembers the incident, still to this day.
I consider it my contribution to dad's artwork.
And here it is:
Wheaties
During a Christmas season of some year I was very sick - like on the couch not eating or nothing sick for at least a week. Probably the Plague or something. I'm sure there were times we should have been in the hospital but were kept home for financial reasons. Anyways, I do recall the Christmas tree in the living room, decorated, but I was so miserably sick I had no interest. Takes a lot to keep a kid from being excited about Christmas. Despite this, I (for some reason I cannot explain) had the intense hunger for a bowl of Wheaties with cold milk poured thereon. I asked for it, was rebuffed (logically, from a parent's perspective), but lobbied hard for that which I very much desired. Finally I got it - a bowl of crispy Wheaties with cold milk. I ate it all, relishing every bite. I very soon after (probably a manner of minutes) puked the whole thing back up. Didn't regret it. Still don't. That was the best bowl of Wheaties ever enjoyed by anyone.
Man On the Moon
July 20, 1969 - our family was gathered around the TV (monochrome, of course, grayscale to be precise) to witness the live broadcast of the first human to set foot on the moon. I was 7 years old at the time and fascinated by the whole thing. I remember going outside and looking up at the moon and wondering if I could see the astronauts and their stuff from earth. Turns out you can't.
Years
Across the street were Mr. and Mrs. Years. They were the most laid back and kindest people I had ever met. I have no idea what either of them did for a living, though they did have a barn and some horses - Trudy, a thoroughbred I believe, and Fella, a draft horse of some sort. Rita (my sister) learned to ride. I rode Fella, once, though for a slow walk. Horses were quite intimidating to me back then. They still are, come to think of it. I'm much more confident on a motorcycle, thank you. At some point I acquired 2 guinea pigs as pets, and I would occasionally buy hay for their hutch from Mr. Years for 50 cents a bail. Dennis & I did spend one overnight at the Years' house for reasons I still have no idea. Golly, it was boring. Mr. & Mrs. Years, were WAY too mellow for our taste, though Dennis & I were polite, respectful, and appreciative. We did each get a chocolate chip cookie with our breakfast, which was different.
Who Let the Dogs Out
Major, the dog, made friends with the neighbor dog Mickey, a German shepherd from across the street. The two would hunt together and chase cars together. I wonder what it was about cars that drove the dogs to chase them (pun intended). Many a dog met their demise chasing cars and another local dog, Lucky, was no exception. We found him one day, dead and with his luck run out on the side of the road. So, Major and Mickey would chase cars whenever they went by, which wasn't too often on that country road, one on each side of the car. Occasionally they would challenge the odds and crisscross in front of the moving car.
My sister-in-law Pat (Arnie's wife) had a female Dalmatian that Major ended up 'spending the night with'. She got pregnant and had 5 puppies, one of which was born dead. Puppies (live ones) was fun stuff for a kid, though eventually they all shipped out to other homes.
My sister-in-law Pat (Arnie's wife) had a female Dalmatian that Major ended up 'spending the night with'. She got pregnant and had 5 puppies, one of which was born dead. Puppies (live ones) was fun stuff for a kid, though eventually they all shipped out to other homes.
New Digs
After a month or so of life at the Wilson's house, we moved out to Southtown Line Rd of the outer limits of Palmyra which seemed, to me, like we had been exiled to the wilderness. The nearest neighbor was at least a half mile away, and having a friend to come over to visit took a freakin act of Congress (most families, including ours, had only one car, and mom didn't drive in those days). Though our social lives suffered as kids, it was interesting living out in the country with the woods, pond, wildlife, and such. A possum ventured into our yard. Dad went out to investigate and it "played dead". He picked it up by the tail and hung it (by the tail) on a ladder leaning up against the house. Geese would populate the pond every spring and fall, something I greatly looked forward to. Occasionally a swan or a heron would stop by, which was a special wonder to me.
Water to the house was fed by a well and was exceedingly gross - smelled like sulfur and tasted disgusting, though dad said it made for a wonderful cup of coffee and you could boil beans in it for hours and they would never get soft. Us kids never drank it - we would fill up gallon jugs at Arnie's house in the village and keep them around for drinking.
Here's a picture I found (actually, it's a scanned-in copy of a printout of a photo) of myself, Mom, and Dennis at the dining room table. Judging from my expression I believe I was attempting some form of suave, though the filthy shirt doesn't help my cause any.
Water to the house was fed by a well and was exceedingly gross - smelled like sulfur and tasted disgusting, though dad said it made for a wonderful cup of coffee and you could boil beans in it for hours and they would never get soft. Us kids never drank it - we would fill up gallon jugs at Arnie's house in the village and keep them around for drinking.
Here's a picture I found (actually, it's a scanned-in copy of a printout of a photo) of myself, Mom, and Dennis at the dining room table. Judging from my expression I believe I was attempting some form of suave, though the filthy shirt doesn't help my cause any.
Between Houses
We moved out of our house on Canandaigua Street across from the school and moved in with our friends the Wilson's (who previously lived next door but had moved to another street but within a short walk's distance). At least I remember Rita, Dennis, and I living there for a month. Jean and Arnold were out on their own, Roger had joined the Navy and had left home. I wonder where Mike had gone - off to college? Staying with someone else?
A few things I clearly recall from that time: one is Mrs. Wilson playing the piano. She played Wipeout which I really enjoyed (and she knew I enjoyed it). Another is having 5 minutes and an inch of water to take a bath, as there were many people in the house needing hot water and bathroom time. I remember one day the Wilsons were dressed up and all headed out to get a family picture taken. I felt left out, though I wasn't part of their family, obviously. Perhaps it was because my family had never got a complete family picture of all of us, including parents (and never would). The closest thing was a painting my dad had done of a winter scene with him, mom, and all the kids except me because I hadn't been born yet.
Another incident involved Roger who (for reasons unknown to me) was home for a bit from the Navy. It was Halloween and he along his friends Bill and Jim took me around town trick-or-treating in Bill's station wagon. We had very little money in those days so I was dressed as a hobo - raggedly clothes and cigarette ashes smeared on my face like I hadn't been shaving or was dirty or both. There were patches on my makeshift coat that mom used straight pins to attach (which is important for later in the story). Well, someone driving by pegged Bill's car with an egg, so they decided to find out who and 'teach them a lesson' or some such thing. Bill accelerated and rounded a corner. The back seat door I was sitting next to swung open and I proceeded (in slow motion, at least in my memory) to fall out of the car. Seat belt use wasn't as prevalent as it is today, even for kids. I remember hearing Bill say (as I was falling out of the car) "OMIGOSH - JB!" JB (for Jon Bryan) was my moniker for many years as a kid. They managed to pull me back into the car and continue their pursuit of the offending party which they eventually found. They parked out in front of the house and approached it on foot. There were no lights on so I could not see anything, though I heard them talking with someone or someones. Eventually a fist-fight broke out. I really did not want to listen to anything of this, so I called out to Roger a few times to hurry up whatever he was doing and let's go home. He cheerfully responded "OK!" "Just a minute!" "Be right there!". Eventually the cops came which led to more time for me sitting by myself in the car wondering when on earth we would be leaving this very unpleasant scene. As it turned out, Bill's really nice jacket was torn and Roger had a bloody black eye from the fight. Roger must have felt sorry for me because he climbed into the back seat to sit with me and sat directly on my hobo coat with the dozen or so straight pins. I don't know which had been more painful to him - the fist in his eye or the pins in his ass. Needless to say I had an exciting story to tell when we got back to the house.
A few things I clearly recall from that time: one is Mrs. Wilson playing the piano. She played Wipeout which I really enjoyed (and she knew I enjoyed it). Another is having 5 minutes and an inch of water to take a bath, as there were many people in the house needing hot water and bathroom time. I remember one day the Wilsons were dressed up and all headed out to get a family picture taken. I felt left out, though I wasn't part of their family, obviously. Perhaps it was because my family had never got a complete family picture of all of us, including parents (and never would). The closest thing was a painting my dad had done of a winter scene with him, mom, and all the kids except me because I hadn't been born yet.
Another incident involved Roger who (for reasons unknown to me) was home for a bit from the Navy. It was Halloween and he along his friends Bill and Jim took me around town trick-or-treating in Bill's station wagon. We had very little money in those days so I was dressed as a hobo - raggedly clothes and cigarette ashes smeared on my face like I hadn't been shaving or was dirty or both. There were patches on my makeshift coat that mom used straight pins to attach (which is important for later in the story). Well, someone driving by pegged Bill's car with an egg, so they decided to find out who and 'teach them a lesson' or some such thing. Bill accelerated and rounded a corner. The back seat door I was sitting next to swung open and I proceeded (in slow motion, at least in my memory) to fall out of the car. Seat belt use wasn't as prevalent as it is today, even for kids. I remember hearing Bill say (as I was falling out of the car) "OMIGOSH - JB!" JB (for Jon Bryan) was my moniker for many years as a kid. They managed to pull me back into the car and continue their pursuit of the offending party which they eventually found. They parked out in front of the house and approached it on foot. There were no lights on so I could not see anything, though I heard them talking with someone or someones. Eventually a fist-fight broke out. I really did not want to listen to anything of this, so I called out to Roger a few times to hurry up whatever he was doing and let's go home. He cheerfully responded "OK!" "Just a minute!" "Be right there!". Eventually the cops came which led to more time for me sitting by myself in the car wondering when on earth we would be leaving this very unpleasant scene. As it turned out, Bill's really nice jacket was torn and Roger had a bloody black eye from the fight. Roger must have felt sorry for me because he climbed into the back seat to sit with me and sat directly on my hobo coat with the dozen or so straight pins. I don't know which had been more painful to him - the fist in his eye or the pins in his ass. Needless to say I had an exciting story to tell when we got back to the house.
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