Sorry for the wait. How about a Papa story or two.

When Papa and Granny lived in the country outside of Camp Wood. Steph, Bill, Bobby and myself would stay with them alot, sans parental supervision. If you ever wanted to have a good time, all you needed to do was get to Granny and Papa's house, parents or no parents, it was a blast.

I have more of these than I can possibly type before my fingers fall off, but I will get started.

We had 2 go carts and a 3 wheeler at Camp Wood. Well, where to begin, oh yeah, I know. One time, Bill and I were riding. He was on the 3 wheeler and I was on the big go cart, when we spotted a jack rabbit. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We started chasing him on our machines. I would chase him, then Bill would cut him off from crossing the barbed wire fence, and chase him the other way. Well, I would loop around and stop him and chase him the other way, and so on. We chased him over small mesquite trees, cactus, briars, stumps, rocks, and so on and so forth. I don't remember how long we chased the rabbit before one miscue or another let him cross the barbed wire fence to get away. It seemed like hours, probably minutes, but it felt like forever. Anyway, the poor rabbit died, according to Papa. Later, I learned, Papa had to fix flats on 6 of the 7 tires between the two machines, after we left. Still, he always laughed about the way we chased that damn rabbit. I didn't know we were being watched. I don't know if Bill knew or not, but I was so caught up in the moment that I had no idea. I think there is a picture of Bill and I holding the rabbit. It used to be bronze on the wall, in the hall of Granny's trailer. Bill and I were in overalls with no shirts, Bobby is in the pic as well.

We hunted squirrels in the front of the house, in our underwear. Granny would spot one and we would run out with our .22's, no matter how we were dressed. The trees were huge, and we didn't want them to get away. In reality, we just wanted to kill one, I don't think we ever did.

Speaking of the huge trees. Anyone who was ever there has to remember the rope swing. You would climb up a 16' deer stand with the rope in one hand, or your mouth, and off you would go. You almost hit the tree on the other side every time, but as hard as I tried, I never could grab it. I could touch it, but not get a grip. Can you imagine driving up to your parents house and seeing your kids jumping off of a 16' platform holding on to a rope. I wish. I know what they are missing. Wow, what a rush! I bet you would swing 50 or 60 feet before coming back the other way. Then you had to drop off of it, swing the hell out of the rope, to get it to the next person on the stand, then climb back up and start over. I miss things like that.

We jumped on the trampoline, in weather ranging from 110 to 20 and snowing. No shoes. Break the egg, football, tag, you name it, we played it. My trampoline at home was never as fun, of course, there were never 4 people on it at once either.

You had to use the trampoline to get on Bully's back for a ride. Bully was Papa and Granny's pet, well, BULL. Tame as hell, but really didn't like to be ridden. Sure, he would let you on, but then it was like he thought, "Shit, how did I get suckered into this again." Off you would go, unless you happened to get the halter on him before you got on, but then, what fun would that be?

Was the pet deer named "Bambi"? It seems like she was, but I don't remember. I know Papa rescued her from a swollen river when she was a little baby. She never left, they bottle fed her, put a cow bell on her neck, and treated her like a daughter. She was always there. When they moved, they left her with neighbors, AND, went back to visit Bambi!

I remember the 3 wheeler getting driven halfway up a tree, but I thing Bobby, Allen, or John Michael did that. Bobby ran over my leg in the go cart. When you got out, you had to hold the brake for the next person to get in, or it would leave you standing there with a stupid look on your face as it motored off. Well, I got out and when Bobby got in, he "accidentaly" hit the gas, full out, as he slid into the seat. The back tire climbed my leg, knocked me down, continued to roll up my leg, and then the idiot stopped. He looked at me, with the go cart parked on me, and asked "Are you OK?" I can't print the answer he got, sufice it to say, I answered in the negative. So he drove off. Ass!

That's enough for now, I have to put the kiddos in bed.

Hope this was entertaining, maybe brought back a few memories.

J