Let's talk about Idiots
A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic
South of the Mason Dixon, gumbo is a good thing! Eastern Montana, gumbo is a curse. The road to our country abode was treacherous due to about eight miles of unpaved, ungravelled gumbo. We lived 36 miles from the nearest town about a fourth of a mile from the North Dakota line in the badlands of Eastern Montana. I went to a country school with an enrollment of 13 all in one room covering all eight grades. Some might consider this a disadvantage ... it certainly was not! Those of us in the lower grades had the pleasure of listening to the lessons taught to the upper grades which gave us a step up in our analytical skills. We also were given refreshers when we listened to lessons being taught to lower grades. In short, we were thinking advanced thoughts well before we would have been in another type of educational setting.
The disadvantage of living out in the sticks like that was that we didn't get to town much ... I would guess about 7 or 8 times a year. We knew nothing, and I do mean nothing about such things as Bubbleicious Bubble Gum or Baby Ruth candy bars, let alone the joys of drinking Cokes on a hot day. We never went to movies, did not have television, and the only entertainment venue we enjoyed was our mothers constant reading us stories or listening to the radio!
The truth of the matter is though, we didn't know anything else, and we were immensely happy! My bothers and I learned early on about the perils of the badlands, which snakes to avoid, etc., and we had the run of the countryside for as far as the eye could see. We made our own great adventures, often to the consternation of our mother.
I remember once the three of us on a great expedition with our dog Shatzie were fortunate enough to come upon an adult skunk with a convenient culvert very nearby to trap it in. One of us got on one end of the culvert, while the other two lollygagged at the other end all the while encouraging our dog to run the skunk into the culvert. What a joy it is at that age to trap a skunk with nothing more than your wit and a dog willing to do your bidding. I think the sheer excitement and anticipation of the hunt ... plus a little adrenaline ... totally eliminated our ability to smell the consequence of our action, and at least temporarily, rendered us insane.
Years later, my mother telling the story would relate how she smelled us as we returned home. The closer we got, the stronger the smell got, and she would tell how she prayed "please Lord, don't let that be the boys .... please!" Unfortunately, it was the boys ... goodness, what a scrubbing we got ... all to no avail. I think in spite of all the remedies you hear about eliminating a skunks scent, the only true and reliable one is the passage of time.
It is a good thing that God gave us the ability to NOT smell something after our body has become accustomed to it, as it most likely took a week or two for us three to stop smelling, but I don't remember that part of it at all. The part I do remember is the joy of successfully coaching my dog into attack mode, getting the skunk in the culvert, and then watching the dog annihilate the beast. I think the dog was less excited about the whole prospect than I was, as he came out of the culvert kind of foaming at the mouth from getting a direct shot right in the face. Good Dog!!!!!!!!
Later!
South of the Mason Dixon, gumbo is a good thing! Eastern Montana, gumbo is a curse. The road to our country abode was treacherous due to about eight miles of unpaved, ungravelled gumbo. We lived 36 miles from the nearest town about a fourth of a mile from the North Dakota line in the badlands of Eastern Montana. I went to a country school with an enrollment of 13 all in one room covering all eight grades. Some might consider this a disadvantage ... it certainly was not! Those of us in the lower grades had the pleasure of listening to the lessons taught to the upper grades which gave us a step up in our analytical skills. We also were given refreshers when we listened to lessons being taught to lower grades. In short, we were thinking advanced thoughts well before we would have been in another type of educational setting.
The disadvantage of living out in the sticks like that was that we didn't get to town much ... I would guess about 7 or 8 times a year. We knew nothing, and I do mean nothing about such things as Bubbleicious Bubble Gum or Baby Ruth candy bars, let alone the joys of drinking Cokes on a hot day. We never went to movies, did not have television, and the only entertainment venue we enjoyed was our mothers constant reading us stories or listening to the radio!
The truth of the matter is though, we didn't know anything else, and we were immensely happy! My bothers and I learned early on about the perils of the badlands, which snakes to avoid, etc., and we had the run of the countryside for as far as the eye could see. We made our own great adventures, often to the consternation of our mother.
I remember once the three of us on a great expedition with our dog Shatzie were fortunate enough to come upon an adult skunk with a convenient culvert very nearby to trap it in. One of us got on one end of the culvert, while the other two lollygagged at the other end all the while encouraging our dog to run the skunk into the culvert. What a joy it is at that age to trap a skunk with nothing more than your wit and a dog willing to do your bidding. I think the sheer excitement and anticipation of the hunt ... plus a little adrenaline ... totally eliminated our ability to smell the consequence of our action, and at least temporarily, rendered us insane.
Years later, my mother telling the story would relate how she smelled us as we returned home. The closer we got, the stronger the smell got, and she would tell how she prayed "please Lord, don't let that be the boys .... please!" Unfortunately, it was the boys ... goodness, what a scrubbing we got ... all to no avail. I think in spite of all the remedies you hear about eliminating a skunks scent, the only true and reliable one is the passage of time.
It is a good thing that God gave us the ability to NOT smell something after our body has become accustomed to it, as it most likely took a week or two for us three to stop smelling, but I don't remember that part of it at all. The part I do remember is the joy of successfully coaching my dog into attack mode, getting the skunk in the culvert, and then watching the dog annihilate the beast. I think the dog was less excited about the whole prospect than I was, as he came out of the culvert kind of foaming at the mouth from getting a direct shot right in the face. Good Dog!!!!!!!!
Later!
posted by webegeeks | 10:56 AM
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