MY FRIEND FRED
When we moved in, on Dobie Road, I was the only little kid for several miles around. So, I had to devise lots of ways to play all by myself. Fortunately, that's never been much of a problem for me, nor for most other kids. A stick of one shape became a six shooter. A longer stick, when some binder twine was tied on, became a bow. Other sticks became arrows. Shooting "bad guys" and harassing sparrows occupied me throughout several summers.
One day, as a sparrow was flying overhead, I drew back my bow (probably about 10-20 pound draw weight), and let fly at him. Instantly, my vision changed. I was no longer watching a blur of an arrow, nor the rapid flight of a bird. Instead, I was watching a series of still shots. In each one, the arrow was a bit higher, and the sparrow was approaching the flight path of that arrow a bit closer. They were converging on each other, step by step. Then - the bird diverted to its right, the arrow slid on by, arced, and fell back to earth. I don't know how the meeting of sparrow and arrow would have turned out, but I gained insight into the field of ballistics that day.
But, still, I wanted someone to play with. Turned out that the closest thing to another kid was Fred Eiffert who is about 9 years older than me, and lived almost a half a mile away. Well, once Fred and I met, we became good friends, and he was tolerant of a pesky kid tagging along behind him. We explored the woods, built a tree house, herded cows, cooled off in the stock tank on hot days, built forts with straw bales, and whiled away time doing boy-type things. We became kind of like a big brother-little brother team. To be honest about that cow herding thing, it was just one cow named Smokey who didn't need to be herded anyway, but we didn't let that stop us.
Fred's family consisted of his mom and dad Irene and Bill, his older sister Barbara, and his uncle Fred. They became a family of friends for me. But Fred's mom didn't always enjoy me. It seems that she thought I wasn't the best mannered little boy, and she didn't like some of my adventurous, spirited antics. She dubbed me as the "twerp of Dobie Road". We learned to get along together. To be honest, if Irene were to be asked, I'm pretty sure that she could tell a different story. sigh
Fred raised a few rabbits. Once in a while they harvested one for the dinner table. Fred taught me how to deliver an effective rabbit punch with the edge of my hand to the back of a rabbit's neck. It broke the neck, thus killing the rabbit.
My uncle had been in training at the Great Lakes Naval Station north of Chicago. He visited us while on leave, and gave me one of his white, sailor hats. I was really proud of that hat, and showed that pride when I wore it. But, when I wore it on the school bus, a high school boy named Casper Antcliff, would grab it away and toss it around the bus. That was frustrating, and made me mad. But I was way too little to take him on.
I lamented this to Fred one day. I complained about how mad Casper made me. Fred had seen these forays on the bus, but had held his counsel. He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and just said, "Give him a rabbit punch." I thought about that for a minute, and liked it. I hadn't yet learned to think through downstream consequences
tomorrow, of what we do today.
On Monday morning, I climbed up into the bus, said "Good morning" to our driver, Mr. Arnold Powell, and started back along the aisle to find a seat. Part way back, sat Casper, across the aisle from Fred. And, true to form, as I passed Casper, he grabbed my treasured sailor cap, and tossed it on to another protagonist.
I didn't say a thing, but walked an a few steps. But, instead of sitting down, I stopped and turned. Casper was facing back forward, triumphantly. I walked up behind him, positioned myself, and delivered one helluva rabbit punch. The reaction was immediate. For a second or two, Casper was shaken. Then he was enraged. Turning in his seat, he started to rise. His face clearly showed what he intended to do to me. But, his movement was quickly arrested. Fred, sitting just across the aisle, put a firm hand on Casper's thigh, and pushing him back down into his seat, calmly shook his head from side to side. The strong message was not lost on Casper. He sat back in his seat, and shut up.
It was then that a lot of things dawned into my realization. I haven't mentioned here yet just how strong Fred was. Nobody messed with him. He was big and muscular. I never, ever saw him in a fight; Fred didn't have to fight. And, neither did he want to. Also, his positioning near Casper wasn't by accident. And, others had been watching the harassment of me, and were tiring of it. And, for my part, if you strike a blow, you'd better be prepared to take quick action of some kind. It all came together in that instant. And, then I went and sat down. Mr. Powell put the bus into gear, and we proceeded on along the route.
Fred affected my life in other ways too. He let me try to milk Smokey the cow. That was a short lived career. I also rode my first horse there. Uncle Fred farmed a few acres with a team of work horses, two mares named Maude and Nell. Maude was a gentle horse, and blind. Nell was black and intolerant of whatever she considered to be bad behavior. She would kick and bite. I stayed away from her, and out of range.
A few times, we rode the horses out to the yonder end of a pasture to "round up" old Smokey. Every other day of the year, she would wander up to the barn to get fed some grain, and be milked. So, we weren't performing any useful chore. But, on the other hand, neither were we doing an damage.
And, for a while at least, neither were we under foot.