My Aunt Janice Pearl Housekeeper e-mailed me a cute little story the other day. I may have heard it before, and so too may have you. That said, it’s still cute and will make you smile.
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The Outhouse
Once there was a little boy who lived in the country.
They had to use an outhouse, and the little boy hated it because it was hot in the summer, cold in the winter and stunk all the time. The outhouse was sitting on the bank of a creek and the boy determined that one day he would push that outhouse into the creek.
One day after a spring rain, the creek was swollen so the little boy decided today was the day to push the outhouse into the creek. So he got a large stick and started pushing. Finally, the outhouse toppled into the creek and floated away.
That night his dad told him they were going to the woodshed after supper.
Knowing that meant a spanking, the little boy asked why. The dad replied, ‘Someone pushed the outhouse into the creek today. It was you, wasn’t it, son??
The boy answered yes. Then he thought a moment and said, ‘Dad, I read in school today that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree and didn’t get into trouble because he told the truth.?
The dad replied, ‘Well, son, George Washington’s father wasn’t in that cherry tree.?
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E-gads that hits home. Having been a son and now having sons I know all too well of fathers, sons, mischief and of lying.
I reckon I was as normal as normal lads go. On more than one occasion I let Mr. Imagination lead me to places I never should have ventured. Boys will be boys is the old cliche, but it’s true. I’d wager that most boys have a Mr. Imagination that, at times, crowds out thoughts from Mr. Logic, Mr. Responsibility or Mr. Conscience.
By the second grade, I remember a couple of hot ‘issues? that overcame the best judgement, I, not yet in double-digits, could muster. The first is the time I was bored and wandering around the garage. Inside was always fascinating — tools, old newspapers, junk, stuff. Why I even found a five gallon metal bucket of tar Dad stored in there. I knew it was tar because I was bored and pried open the lid.
Easily distracted I then found my way to the old newspapers. I remember rolling one up, finding some matches and lighting one end of the paper roll and pretending to be the Statue of Liberty. I remember being nervous as the flames burned closer to my outstretched hand. I quickly dunked the flaming torch of liberty into the cool blackness of the tar. I covered up my indiscretion by putting the lid back on the metal bucket. The task completed I quickly forgot about the entire episode (until the next time Dad needed to use the tar).
There was another episode involving melting toy soldiers and other toys with my sister Barb and the Kessler cousins. Mr. Logic went on a vacation that summer sometime before junior high school when I swam across Walter’s Lake in Independence Township. Yes, I even played George Washington at Aunt Pat’s house and started chopping down the cherry tree in her back yard. I have no idea what I was thinking by throwing a handful of feed corn at a bunch of wasp nests, nor could I tell you why, when I found an old dump in the woods, I smashed all those old bottles (which caused our dog Lady to get a cut paw.)
And, the time I lied to Dad about knocking down the tree fort. Jeeze. I had it made, he believed me. ‘No, Dad. I did not knock that fort down.?
I was a free man until guilt got the better of me. I immediately tried to rebuild the fort (atone) and that didn’t work, nor ease my conscience. I had to fess up to Pops Rush. It was such a bad feeling lying to him — the ensuing spanking (for lying) was nothing compared to the pain of knowing I let him down.
At no time in any of the above mentioned chapters in boyhood was I trying to be stupid or malicious — I just was. It’s a boy-thing — we’re lower on the evolutionary scale than girls.
Hopefully, I will remember that when Shamus and Sean start pulling stunts and shenanigans — they’re just boys.
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