Confession or Tattle? Chapter 1

Confession or Tattle?

Chapter 1

It's 1961. I'm 10 and a bad boy. I've taken up smoking along with two or three of my friends on Dayton Ave (I won't name you, you know who you are - this is a confession, not a tattle). It started when we got caught by Pops riding our bikes through the foundry on Main Street. Our punishment was 30 minutes of lecturing while he held our bikes hostage.

But, old Pops was a marshmallow at heart and finally let us go. He offered to pay us a dime if we went to the drugstore down the street and bought him a pack of Swisher Sweets (they were a quarter, then). Every day. Of course, he had to call ahead to okay it with the cashier.

Didn't take us too long to figure out that we had enough money, every 3 days, to buy a pack of those Sweets for ourselves. To this day I'm not sure how we convinced the clerk to let us buy two packs instead of one, but we were cute kids and that probably had a lot to do with it.

A couple weeks later, we convinced the clerk that Pops had taken up menthols and we graduated from the little cigars to Salems. It wasn't much longer before we were into Marlboros and unfiltered Camels. I would, later on, switch to Pall Mall reds cuz that's what my parents smoked. You'll figure out why later.

Mini-Confession

That tablet dispenser in the entrance hall of the foundry? It ain't really candy. They are salt tablets. Never knew that if you ate too many of them you would pee blood until we convinced another one of our friends they tasted best if you ate them by the handful. Sorry, Lee.

Anyways! I had the perfect hiding place for my smokes and matches. I thought. The forced hot air furnace had a fresh air duct under my bed with a ledge covered by a decorative grate. Under my bed. Who would ever think to look there?

Who? Why, Grandma Hedglin, of course! She came from Clarks Summit one day to help my Mom with spring cleaning. Dismantled my bed. Pulled up the grate. Took me by surprise when I got home. So, I used the only story I could come up with.

Finally - the Confession

"They aren't mine. I'm holding them for a friend."
Hey, it's been over 50 years. There must be a statute of limitations, right? So, when they asked me who they belonged to (answer or be grounded for life), I threw the other bad boy on Dayton Ave under the bus. Sorry. Johnny, but I really did hate being grounded. That was probably the only time my Mom ever called your house. No, wait, there was that bb gun/copperhead incident, too.

Pops and the clerk eventually caught on and we lost our best source. Guess that explains why I had to switch to Pall Mall reds. But, I quit smoking several years ago. Cold Turkey. Haven't looked back. Have to define my body type as bulbous, now, but my lungs are cleaner any way.

Whew! There's probably actually about 15 confessions in this one story. And a couple left out, too, believe me.

Still to Come

"The Tough Girls of Hallstead" (or "The Girls That Broke My Heart" or vice-versa - Not!), "The Art of Dodging Trains and Flattening Pennies" and "Why You Should Never Tie Two Cat's Tails Together" (ok, that's a tattle better left untold, I guess).

Ya'll come back now, ya heah?

Aliens and Goblins and Ghosts, Oh, My!

 And Nessie and Bigfoot and etc., Oh, My, Again!

I am not a “BELIEVER”. Nor am I a “DISBELIEVER”. And I’m definitely not a “BELIEBER”.

It’s difficult to not be a believer in some things, like when I’m out on my boat under clear skies and calm winds and the sun is setting. Then, you have to believe in something. But, when it comes to most things “I believe in the possibility . . .”

I, personally, have never seen proof of UFOs or Aliens. But, I believe in the possibility of UFOs and Aliens. I am not so vain as to think that we are the only intelligent life in the entire universe. Actually, if we ARE the only intelligent life in the entire universe, the entire universe could be in serious trouble based on the news of the day. Besides, how could so many people be believers without some basis in fact?

I have never seen Bigfoot, and the television show about hunting him (she or it?) down has done nothing to convince me that he (she or it?) exists. I mean, if archaeologists can discover a full horse skeleton from the 1600s, why hasn’t at least a bone or two from a Bigfoot been found? But, I believe in the possibility. After all, it did take 400 years to find the horse skeleton and the television show has only been airing for a few seasons. Maybe they’ll produce proof by 2413.

Are there really ghostly spirits in the attic? How about the cellar? When I was 14, I was almost a believer whenever I went down into the cellar on those rickety wooden stairs under bad lighting. There was always water dripping down the stone walls causing the sump pump to occasionally kick in, even on the driest summer days. How could that be? Even the spring-well dried up once in a while. Talk about a perfect movie set for the most evil entity ever! Yet I never had my entrails strung along the makeshift wire runs or dissolved into a pool of muck on the floor. I did step in some muck once in a while. But that was probably only because one of the dogs managed to slip down the stairs without anyone noticing. But, I believe in possibilities. So many stories about Elm Street must have some basis in fact, I’m sure.

Karma is a real possibility. It is included in some religions as seen as bringing upon oneself inevitable results, good or bad, either in this life or in a reincarnation. Speaking of reincarnation, SWMBO has a Boston terrier that is terrified of thunder, lightning and rain. Maybe, just maybe, Rosie is a reincarnation of a battlefield soldier that suffered PTSD before coming back. I don’t mean this sarcastically. After all, it would explain why she is fearless of bigger dogs and people, yet shakes uncontrollably at the first boom of the storm. I just don’t know, but it is one of the things that make me believe in the possibilities. And, if Karma and reincarnation really do go hand-in-hand, I’ll err on the side of increasing my chances, thank you very much.

Believe? Don’t Believe? Decide for yourself. When I have proof, one way or the other, I will too. Until then, I won’t laugh at anyone for what they believe in, because “I believe in the possibility . . .”