Nice visiting with some old Lee High pals on Facebook. And it's agood excuse to bring this old blog out of hibernation to share some stuff too lengthy for facebook. Most of you I haven't seen for years, but since 1994 I've been writing columns and articles for my local paper and several magazines. I ran across this column recently while searching some archives. It brought back some memories. Anybody remember this place but me, Linwood Erb and Medley Curry?
Born To Be Mild
I wanted to be wild more than anything else in the world, but until my
junior year in high school, the delinquent activities topped out at skipping study hall. Once.
Mine was mostly a transportation problem. It’s hard to do any serious
mischief from a bicycle.
I couldn’t drive, but I had a couple of friends who could. Medley Curry
and Linwood Erb were Lee High band buddies who joined the Navy Reserve during high school and became wise beyond their tender years.
We called them Admiral Erb and Captain Curry. During their time in the
Navy they saw some exotic sights, learned some spectacular new curse words
and most daring of all, acquired taste for beer. One Friday night they invited me to join them for a walk on the wild side.
It was a beer run. I was ecstatic at the opportunity to commit my first major league sin. My mother had been warning me for years about the two
unredeemable teenage pitfalls— sex and booze— so I was dying to give them a whirl.
Sex was still a dream, but alcohol was lurking on the horizon. I was wild, wired, alive and ready to rock. Aside from the butchered crew cut, coke bottle glasses and the Mozart t-shirt, I was the spitting image of James Dean.
The guys picked me up and we sailed full speed ahead down the
highway to hell.
A few miles out of town, Medley turned down a dirt road, followed it a
mile or two and parked in a graveled lot. The headlights illuminated a bleak concrete block shack with a hand-painted sign reading "Fuller’s Place."
We switched off the engine and waited. Ten minutes earlier I had been
pulsing with testosterone, a burning, churning rebel with an unquenchable thirst for forbidden pleasures. Now, I was sitting on my hands to hide the shaking and hoping I wouldn’t soil myself.
After a few minutes, an elderly black gentlemen looked out the door, eyeballed us and wandered over to the car.
What you boys looking for?”
“We want some beer,” said the Admiral.
“The good stuff, “ added the Captain.
Back then, decent beer was about a buck a six-pack. We gave the old man a
ten dollar bill and waited anxiously. He came out a few minutes later with a sack that looked suspiciously small.
“What’s this?” the Admiral quizzed him.
“Ten beers. That’s all you get.”
“For ten bucks?”
“Service charge.”
“Sounds high.”
“Take it or leave it.”
We took it and blew out of there in a shower of dust and gravel. When we
reached the safety of the highway we passed the sack around. I took one of the frosty cans out, held it aloft and admired it— my first, honest-to-goodness underage beer.
I cracked it open and watched as the creamy foam spilled seductively over
the side. Then I turned the can to my lips and took a long, deep pull of...Canadian Ace malt liquor.
I’ve never heard of the brand before or since, but if that beer had been
my first date, I’d have sworn off girls forever. It was ghastly, a concoction that tasted as if it had been dipped directly from Satan’s urinal.
Of course none of us acknowledged this. We rode around grinning and
swilling, saying “Smooth,” and “Cool, man.”
By stifling a stubborn gag reflex, I managed to down three cans of the
stuff. I don’t know if my discomfort was caused by drinking too much or the fact that Canadian Ace was the vilest substance to ever cross my lips, but it was all I could do to keep from throwing up right there in the car.
I had never felt so sick in my life. At least until I got home. When we pulled up at my house and I saw my mother staring out the front window, I knew a bad night was about to get worse.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
testing, testing, 1..2...3
the blog is preparing to commence operations again. When? You'll see it here first.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Kitty Questions
Winter is most here. My outdoor cats are almost cold. They need a nice, warm shelter for the winter. I've checked a few websites, but would like to hear from anyone with real world experience in keeping yard kitties from,becoming cat-sicles. Winning entyr gets a big "Thanks" and a blog mention. Maybe a column mention, too.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Crazy
Too bad country music queen Patsy Cline's biggest hit "Crazy" isn't on the charts any more. It would be the perfect theme song for the 2008 presidential election. Case in point, Dem. candidate Dennis Kucinich, who recently accused George Bush of being mentally ill and a few days later confirmed he had once seen a UFO. Here's the best part...neither comment raised an eyebrow from the public or the media. Perfect.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Election Blues
You gotta feel sorry for America's state and local politicians. (That is, if you care about them to begin with). Thousands of offices are up for grabs in elections to be held next week, but the locals can't get a word in edgewise because the 2008 presidential race started a year (or more) early and all the news outlets are so busy running to Iowa, New Hampshire and South Carolina the "little people" are lost in the shuffle. Local elections may not be as sexy as big national fistfights, but it's the officials at the local and state level who have the greatest affect on our day-to-day lives. If you haven't already, check out the local races where you live. Your vote next Tuesday will have a lot more impact on your personal quality of life than the next dozen presidential elections combined. Unless the next president goes to war...or...well, don't get me started.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Hitting the Road
The Blog is heading to Cajun Country in south Louisiana for a few days so I can get back to my roots and polish my diminished crawfish-eating skills. If any news breaks down there, you'll hear it here last. Meanwhile, send a prayer (or several) out to the California homeowners and firefighters trying to cope with that terrible tragedy. Property loss has been tremendous, but loss of life low. Pray it stays that way. If you want to help, the Red Cross is taking donations for fire victims, by the way.
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