Random Childhood Memories

teachercd

teachercd

Well-known member
I will go first...

Getting that new Nerf football and of course, leaving it outside in the rain so the next day it weighs 10 pounds!

Oh and of course biting a piece out of it!

 
Remember those Nerf bow and arrows?  I threw an absolute tantrum when my parents didn't get me one at Walmart when I was like 10.  I still cringe thinking about it.

They ended up getting me one later.  It was alright.  

 
Up till 6th grade, I lived in town and in a neighborhood with 3 other kids my age.  We had a blast.  We would all make sure our parents would buy A LOT of pop bottle rockets at 4th of July.  We would never come anywhere close to using them all.  BUT....(it's hard to explain) in our front yard and and the yard across the street, there were things we could hide behind.  So....we would split up in teams and have pop bottle rocket wars.  At night it was awesome.  We all had beebee guns.  They worked perfect for aiming them.  

The cops would come around and tell us to stop....we would.....until they turned the corner and it was always fun to be the first one to fire one off after the cops were gone.

We did the same thing with polack goose guns.  That was fun too.

 
BigRedBuster said:
Up till 6th grade, I lived in town and in a neighborhood with 3 other kids my age.  We had a blast.  We would all make sure our parents would buy A LOT of pop bottle rockets at 4th of July.  We would never come anywhere close to using them all.  BUT....(it's hard to explain) in our front yard and and the yard across the street, there were things we could hide behind.  So....we would split up in teams and have pop bottle rocket wars.  At night it was awesome.  We all had beebee guns.  They worked perfect for aiming them.  

The cops would come around and tell us to stop....we would.....until they turned the corner and it was always fun to be the first one to fire one off after the cops were gone.

We did the same thing with polack goose guns.  That was fun too.
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That is awesome!

We used to have BB gun wars.  We would steal safety goggles from school and then we would wear a lot of layers of clothing.  The was you could only pump your gun 1 time...but...I don't think anyone followed that rule. 

 
teachercd said:
That is awesome!

We used to have BB gun wars.  We would steal safety goggles from school and then we would wear a lot of layers of clothing.  The was you could only pump your gun 1 time...but...I don't think anyone followed that rule. 
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safety goggles and layers of clothing?  You would be chastised in my neighborhood.  The pain was how you knew the other guy wasn't lying about not getting hit.

 
When I was 10 I got a brand new tabagon for Xmas. A couple weeks later I let my brother and his friend use it and they broke it in half. Years later and he still laughs that I thought my parents should have made him buy me a new one. a$$h@!e!!!  :) .   I should've shot him with his BB gun.

 
Speaking of BBs - some of that in my long story to follow.  I grew up as one of 7 kids (8 counting my twin who died after 3 days of a bad heart - docs thought I'd be a goner too - we were a month premature and in 1955 that was a big deal). We grew up on in SE S.D. My farm environment was remembered as a lot of work.  Grandpa's farm - 15 miles north was remembered for lots of fun.  In 1991 when contemplating this and knowing Grandpa was about to pass, I wrote down some thoughts.  I was able to read this at his funeral 3 weeks later.  Did it wtout breaking up but 14 years later at a family reunion I couldn't get through it.   So, my fondest memories were of "Grandpa's Place".  I tried to get it published but no takers but it has struck a cord with many who have had similar memories.    Sorry for the length but I am who I am in large part due to my grandparents - some of the kindest people I ever knew:


 


Grandpa’s place – what memories come to mind.  There are so many that want to be expressed first.


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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Ah, Grandpa’s place is the smell of fried potatoes, eggs, and bacon in the morning, Grandma’s loving duty and Grandpa’s daily need – don’t forget the ketchup on those eggs.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place is the great fire – lightning hit the house at night and Grandpa telling Grandma, “Don’t panic” as he puts his pants on backwards “where is the zipper, ma?”.  It is Grandpa backing out the garage at 50mph to call the fireman, forgetting the old Plymouth was in his direct line – CRASH!  It was a night when Grandma gave new meaning to indecision; hauling the furniture out into the rain so it wouldn’t get burned and then hauling the furniture back in “It will just get ruined by the rain out there.” she said.  Thankfully this was a night when Grandpa’s place would keep standing.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was a fun place where the local cousins could get together with the far away cousins.  It was wrestling or basketball in the hay loft – The Locals (Ron, Mike, Dan) against – The Far A-ways (Steve, Terry, Todd) I think The Locals always won.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]It was a place where Grandpa tried to get Mike and Terry to explain, “How did that B-B break the Plymouth’s window? It bounced off of how many buildings first?”

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was pushing someone in the big wheel pushcart or riding on the bedspring while Grandpa smoothed out the drive or exploring the grove of trees and looking at that old farm equipment.  It was getting to herd the sheep back to the barn with the little Ford tractor.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was work, too.  It was listening to Grandpa telling the story about Uncle Denny wanting to build up his muscles, so Grandpa sent him to clean out the sheep barn.  “Oh, he looked so whipped at the end of the day” Grandpa would say.  Grandpa’s place is knowing the same feeling one day, as I, too would be sent forth with pitch fork in hand to do battle with the sheep barn only to become another victim of its power.  It was watching the Canadian geese circle down into the lake near his farm while we were “harvesting” the rocks off of the fields before spring planting.  Grandpa’s place was hearing Grandpa criticize those city boys because they cut weeds too high in the soybean fields.  Us  kids knew how to cut those weeds – low down.  We had plenty of practice.  They didn’t call Grandpa’s place the c$%k-a-bur farm for nothing.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was a vacation for us kids and a relief for Mom, as we would spend many nights over at Grandpa’s Place during the summer.  It was listening to the wind going through the trees at night and wondering if that was really “just the wind”.  It was going to town with Grandpa and following him in the café like ducks and holding our chests out big as Grandpa would proudly introduce us all to his card playing buddies.  It was picking apples with Grandma and being told for the millionth time to “get down from that windmill”.  Grandpa’s place was jumping and swinging on the bedspring swing and hoping you would never get hit by that lethal weapon if you fell off.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was wondering if Uncle Billy would become famous like the Beach Boys as he and his group would practice their form of 60’s music in the barn.  It was also wondering why Grandpa painted the farmhouse a bright blue color.  You could see it for miles and I don’t think Grandma ever forgave him for that deed.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was Trixy and Pal – two of the most faithful dogs on this earth.  It was a dirt floor workshop in the garage where Grandpa turned out toy barns, deacon’s benches, windmills and the like.  It was straightening bent nails and digging through the dusty nut and bolt box.  Grandpa would save everything – “We may need those nails and bolts some day” he would say.  Grandpa lived through the depression and he knew the value of a straightened nail or a saved bolt.  It was working with Dad, Mike, and Danny in the fields or going to get a pop from 6’8” “Tiny” at the gas station or visiting Pumpkin Center or Rumpus Ridge to get a bag of feed for the sheep.  Grandpa’s place was watching a dark cloud of hail destroy the corn on our farm 15 miles away near Parker, S.D. and knowing it will have to be next year.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place is memories, especially the memory of sitting down with Grandpa by the grainery as we waited for Mike or Dad to bring in another load of oats.  It was Grandpa remembering all of the changes he has seen in his life – airplanes, radio, TV, and a man on the moon.  He drove on a dirt road to the Black Hills and then Hwy 16 and then I-90.  Two World Wars, Korea and Vietnam, the place where Uncle Billy had to go.  A depression and after the war a boom.  He was the next generation, then he raised the next one which then gave birth to my generation – we will carry on his heritage through our children.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was walking through the farm one last time after Grandma’s funeral and before Grandpa had to sell the place he and Grandma had lived for nearly 50 years.  It was taking pictures of the hay loft where I played, the barn where I worked, and the farmhouse where I was loved.  The pictures, I thought, would help Grandpa’s place to live on.  I have found that it is the memories, those wonderful, living memories, which make Grandpa’s place live on - not the pictures.

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[SIZE=11pt]            [/SIZE]Grandpa’s place was a place full of faith.  Grandpa and Grandma were in church whenever the doors were open.  Grandpa ushered and took care of the church grounds among other things.  Their faith was a quiet faith demonstrated by their genuine care for others.  Grandpa’s place was most of all love.  It is the legacy that he and Grandma have left us.  Grandpa’s place will always remain; for Grandpa’s place is Grandpa, it is Grandma, and it is love – and love will never pass away.
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BigRedBuster said:
Up till 6th grade, I lived in town and in a neighborhood with 3 other kids my age.  We had a blast.  We would all make sure our parents would buy A LOT of pop bottle rockets at 4th of July.  We would never come anywhere close to using them all.  BUT....(it's hard to explain) in our front yard and and the yard across the street, there were things we could hide behind.  So....we would split up in teams and have pop bottle rocket wars.  At night it was awesome.  We all had beebee guns.  They worked perfect for aiming them.  

The cops would come around and tell us to stop....we would.....until they turned the corner and it was always fun to be the first one to fire one off after the cops were gone.

We did the same thing with polack goose guns.  That was fun too.
Click to expand...


teachercd said:
That is awesome!

We used to have BB gun wars.  We would steal safety goggles from school and then we would wear a lot of layers of clothing.  The was you could only pump your gun 1 time...but...I don't think anyone followed that rule. 
Click to expand...
Ha, must be a Nebraska thing (or just unsupervised kids back in the good ole days thing).

We had bottle rocket wars and BB gun fights all the time. I remember specifically how they came to a halt.

One bottle rocket war, we (my side) was winning and the other team took refuge in one of the guy’s houses. We kept shooting as they all piled through his front door. One of the bottle rockets went into the house and exploded on a wall leaving a black mark. Yeah, his mom put an end to our bottle rocket wars.

The BB gun fights ended similarly. The kid that lived directly behind us across the alley took one dead center between the eyes, just above the bridge of his nose. Left a nice little indentation and of course he ran home crying. You guessed it, his mom also was extremely unhappy  :lol:   The line in a Christmas Story, “you’ll shoot your eye out” has extra special meaning for me and the kids I grew up with  :lol:

BTW, we had no pump limit on the BB guns and it was hit and miss on who chose to wear eye protection for either type of battle.

 
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JJ Husker said:
Ha, must be a Nebraska thing (or just unsupervised kids back in the good ole days thing).

We had bottle rocket wars and BB gun fights all the time. I remember specifically how they came to a halt.

One bottle rocket war, we (my side) was winning and the other team took refuge in one of the guy’s houses. We kept shooting as they all piled through his front door. One of the bottle rockets went into the house and exploded on a wall leaving a black mark. Yeah, his mom put an end to our bottle rocket wars.

The BB gun fights ended similarly. The kid that lived directly behind us across the alley took one dead center between the eyes, just above the bridge of his nose. Left a nice little indentation and of course he ran home crying. You guessed it, his mom also was extremely unhappy  :lol:   The line in a Christmas Story, “you’ll shoot your eye out” has extra special meaning for me and the kids I grew up with  :lol:

BTW, we had no pump limit on the BB guns and it was hit and miss on who chose to wear eye protection for either type of battle.
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Yes, we had bottle rocket wars and BB gun wars eventually graduated up to 'nail gun' wars as a young adult.  One rule - couldn't intentially hit someone  - just scare them.  Of course that didn't last long as the job site manager but an end to it. 

 
JJ Husker said:
Ha, must be a Nebraska thing (or just unsupervised kids back in the good ole days thing).

We had bottle rocket wars and BB gun fights all the time. I remember specifically how they came to a halt.

One bottle rocket war, we (my side) was winning and the other team took refuge in one of the guy’s houses. We kept shooting as they all piled through his front door. One of the bottle rockets went into the house and exploded on a wall leaving a black mark. Yeah, his mom put an end to our bottle rocket wars.

The BB gun fights ended similarly. The kid that lived directly behind us across the alley took one dead center between the eyes, just above the bridge of his nose. Left a nice little indentation and of course he ran home crying. You guessed it, his mom also was extremely unhappy  :lol:   The line in a Christmas Story, “you’ll shoot your eye out” has extra special meaning for me and the kids I grew up with  :lol:

BTW, we had no pump limit on the BB guns and it was hit and miss on who chose to wear eye protection for either type of battle.
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Our BB guns didn't have pump.  We had old lever action ones. Maybe didn't shoot quite as hard, but we could fire off BBs pretty fast.

 
TGHusker said:
Yes, we had bottle rocket wars and BB gun wars eventually graduated up to 'nail gun' wars as a young adult.  One rule - couldn't intentially hit someone  - just scare them.  Of course that didn't last long as the job site manager but an end to it. 
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I guess the kid in us never really grows up. I worked on a lot of construction sites. We typically didn’t have carpenters or those type of nail guns but we did have the Hilti/Red Head powder actuated nail guns for shooting nails into concrete and sheets of 2” thick styrofoam. The safety features was the outlet barrel had to be depressed so you couldn’t just shoot them like a gun so, of course, we used the styrofoam to allow us to shoot them wherever. Pro tip- nail guns like this are not very accurate  :lol:

 
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Another thing on the BB gun wars.  We used to live in a very big old house with a huge upstairs with lots of rooms.  That's where we had our BB gun wars.  It was awesome.  the walls were all old plaster, so the BBs didn't dent them like they would drywall.

 
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