I have been amusing myself by writing down some memories of my childhood and thought, dear readers, that I would share some of them with you. I hope you enjoy them
I had a niece who was and still is only 8 months younger than me, despite her younger age however, she had a great head for details, that I did not and she would tell me things that I would scoff at and then later find out were real scientific provable facts and I was indeed very silly and very wrong in my imaginative, but somewhat deranged beliefs.
I hated that I was always wrong and that she liked to show me up and show off my ignorance.
My only revenge ,at the time ,was step on the one hundred and fifty thousand (slight exaggeration) ant hills in our very long dirt driveway.
My niece, you see, wanted us all to live in peace and harmony with our ant neighbors and she had a fit when anyone would step on an ant hill declaring in her superior way, “How’d you like if a giant ant stepped on your house?”
I was pretty sure that giant ants did not exist, but with my track record thought it was none to wise to bring that up in case some grown-up could come along and prove me wrong for the ten thousand time in a row.
In stead, whenever I caught her eye, I did a stomp, stomp on the anthill and evilly chuckled to myself.
She was good at goading, as well, and I her dimwitted victim.
Not sure how old we were, but once when we were playing in my dad’s car (not really allowed) we found a pouch of chewing tobacco with the words: Cool Mint Flavor on the packaging.
My niece convinced me to try some as mint tasted good, which seemed logical, I had mint flavored candy before and it was tasty.
I never stopped to wonder why she was urging me to try the crap and not chomping down on that “cool mint flavor” herself.
I took a big chunk of the stuff and swallowed.
I coughed, turned green, had tears running down my eyes, and had my niece in a panic thinking she killed me. I survived somehow.
The other main incident (Sure, there were others, but I must have blocked them out of my mind) involved a can of beer.
We caught the bus at the end of a very long dirt road (I guess I should explain she lived with us at that time) that ran by the house.
There was a pretty deep ditch, that was dried up and one day we spotted a beer can in it.
The beer can was swollen like it was impregnated with a little Ale. (Okay, sorry, that was bad)
Anyway, my niece convinced me to poke it with a stick, why? I have no idea why she suggested it or why I ended up poking it, what I do know is I got showered in old beer.
I went to school smelling like a brewery rather than face the wrath of my mother which I thought would be the greater of the two evils.
I am sure they could smell the beer on me, I could.
I often wonder what the school thought about our family and the girl who stunk of old beer.