After many years of being number 3, my oldest Brother joined the Army and the next one went off to college and got married. Like Bush did early today, I assumed the tittle as the Commander and Chief. This position did have benefits. No one was around that could kick your ass and it was your turn to make you little brother’s life miserable. The number one benefit was that you got your own room. Needless to say, I didn’t like the décor of the previous occupant. I talked my father out of a record player that had a speaker about 2ft high and one foot wide. I painted the outside of the speaker case Cherry red. It had a place you could plug in a mike and sing along with the songs.
Use to love to do that when I got mad about something. I would put on a little Stephenwolf and sing “Born to be Wild” or my all time favorite: What gives you the right, to stand and tell me what to do, tell me, who gave you the power, to stop me from living like I do. Remember if you plan to stay that those that give can’t take away. I also played a lot of Bee Gee’s and Bread. Both groups put out a lot of romantic sad songs about some woman that done you wrong. So she broke your heart…go get you a pint of JD and start off listening to some songs about other folks in the same situation. Drink a little, listen a little and sing along a little. When you got it out of your system., you go. back to Stephenwolf. Bornnnnnn to be wilddddddddddddddddddd.. I am on the fucking highway, going to do it my way…born to be wild.
To hell with that woman…she doesn’t know what she passed up.
This period was in the early 70’s. Hippie movement was pretty big and you had to have long hair to be anybody. Course dad being Military didn’t care for that much. He thought the Beatles were a communist plot to take over America, by destroying its youth. For most of these years I had long blond hair down to the edge of my shoulder. I was lean and mean. My mamma said the only time my pants fit right was on payday. So I guess that means I had no Ass to speak of. I started smoking in the 8th grade so by the time I got to the 10th grade there was no desire to hide it anymore. I found an old toilet somewhere and set it up in the room halfway down the wall. No tank..just the bowl. This was to be my ashtray. Hell you didn’t have to dump it for years. Then went out and bought a poster picture of the devil that was painted in fluorescent paint. I placed the poster on the wall behind the toilet. Went out to the highway and stole one of those big yellow-blinking lights. Placed it in the bowl, blinking up at the poster of the devil. It made it look like the flames were actually moving.
The fashion of the day was bell-bottom pants and shirts with the big French collars and sleeves. Your shoe had to have at least 2 inch heals on them. Course it was hard to get your parents to dress you like one of those communist faggots so you had to buy your own.
Vietnam was still going on and those folks were shooting each other. Didn’t look like a fun place to go and when you got back somebody would call you a baby killer instead of thanking you. So unless you were crazy, there were two schools of thought. Either do extremely well so you could get a full scholarship to college (you would get a deferment and hopefully the damn war would be over by time you got out) or stay in High School. I chose the easiest…stay in high school. Failed the 9th grade twice. I even failed PE. Skipped school whenever I could and chased them women. Since I had failed the 9th twice, I decided I would quit school. 18 was a few years away, I could get a full time job and chase them women.
Only problem was getting mom and dad’s permission to do so. That 2nd summer my dad decided the house needed a new septic tank system and guess who was going to dig it since it was probably going to be my occupation in life anyway, with no education. My father invited my grandfather down for the summer also. He had recently retired. He was to supervise me digging the septic tank hole and lines. He was a real good guy and there will be many stores on him down the road. But he only had about a 4th grade education and had to work hard all of his life.
It was very hot down in that hole. You would dig a little, pick a little and then chop a little to get those pine roots out of the way. Daddy Buck would sit at the edge of the pit in a lawn chair, sipping on a cold beer and taunt the hell out of you while you worked. You need to dig some more there…do this, do that… He finally got on my last nerve and I grabbed the axe and was going to come out of the hole and kick his ass when he said: You come on out of that hole and whip this old man’s ass if you want to boy, but if you don’t finish high school you going to have some old dumb bastard like me, telling you what to do for the rest of your life. I put down the axe and looked at him and he looked like a man of conviction, he believed what he was saying and it was based on his experience. I had to listen. I did well in school the next year, which means I passed all my courses and then went to summer school 2 years in a row to catch up. By the time I reached my senior year I had an easy load. I only had to go half days.
Side Note: Doing fairly good these days and make enough to support two women. One just gives me the privilege to writing her checks however. Oh well who would have ever thought a ditch digging boy from Woolmarket would even be able to do it.
Art Nalley
Redneck Hertiage Network
@2004
Use to love to do that when I got mad about something. I would put on a little Stephenwolf and sing “Born to be Wild” or my all time favorite: What gives you the right, to stand and tell me what to do, tell me, who gave you the power, to stop me from living like I do. Remember if you plan to stay that those that give can’t take away. I also played a lot of Bee Gee’s and Bread. Both groups put out a lot of romantic sad songs about some woman that done you wrong. So she broke your heart…go get you a pint of JD and start off listening to some songs about other folks in the same situation. Drink a little, listen a little and sing along a little. When you got it out of your system., you go. back to Stephenwolf. Bornnnnnn to be wilddddddddddddddddddd.. I am on the fucking highway, going to do it my way…born to be wild.
To hell with that woman…she doesn’t know what she passed up.
This period was in the early 70’s. Hippie movement was pretty big and you had to have long hair to be anybody. Course dad being Military didn’t care for that much. He thought the Beatles were a communist plot to take over America, by destroying its youth. For most of these years I had long blond hair down to the edge of my shoulder. I was lean and mean. My mamma said the only time my pants fit right was on payday. So I guess that means I had no Ass to speak of. I started smoking in the 8th grade so by the time I got to the 10th grade there was no desire to hide it anymore. I found an old toilet somewhere and set it up in the room halfway down the wall. No tank..just the bowl. This was to be my ashtray. Hell you didn’t have to dump it for years. Then went out and bought a poster picture of the devil that was painted in fluorescent paint. I placed the poster on the wall behind the toilet. Went out to the highway and stole one of those big yellow-blinking lights. Placed it in the bowl, blinking up at the poster of the devil. It made it look like the flames were actually moving.
The fashion of the day was bell-bottom pants and shirts with the big French collars and sleeves. Your shoe had to have at least 2 inch heals on them. Course it was hard to get your parents to dress you like one of those communist faggots so you had to buy your own.
Vietnam was still going on and those folks were shooting each other. Didn’t look like a fun place to go and when you got back somebody would call you a baby killer instead of thanking you. So unless you were crazy, there were two schools of thought. Either do extremely well so you could get a full scholarship to college (you would get a deferment and hopefully the damn war would be over by time you got out) or stay in High School. I chose the easiest…stay in high school. Failed the 9th grade twice. I even failed PE. Skipped school whenever I could and chased them women. Since I had failed the 9th twice, I decided I would quit school. 18 was a few years away, I could get a full time job and chase them women.
Only problem was getting mom and dad’s permission to do so. That 2nd summer my dad decided the house needed a new septic tank system and guess who was going to dig it since it was probably going to be my occupation in life anyway, with no education. My father invited my grandfather down for the summer also. He had recently retired. He was to supervise me digging the septic tank hole and lines. He was a real good guy and there will be many stores on him down the road. But he only had about a 4th grade education and had to work hard all of his life.
It was very hot down in that hole. You would dig a little, pick a little and then chop a little to get those pine roots out of the way. Daddy Buck would sit at the edge of the pit in a lawn chair, sipping on a cold beer and taunt the hell out of you while you worked. You need to dig some more there…do this, do that… He finally got on my last nerve and I grabbed the axe and was going to come out of the hole and kick his ass when he said: You come on out of that hole and whip this old man’s ass if you want to boy, but if you don’t finish high school you going to have some old dumb bastard like me, telling you what to do for the rest of your life. I put down the axe and looked at him and he looked like a man of conviction, he believed what he was saying and it was based on his experience. I had to listen. I did well in school the next year, which means I passed all my courses and then went to summer school 2 years in a row to catch up. By the time I reached my senior year I had an easy load. I only had to go half days.
Side Note: Doing fairly good these days and make enough to support two women. One just gives me the privilege to writing her checks however. Oh well who would have ever thought a ditch digging boy from Woolmarket would even be able to do it.
Art Nalley
Redneck Hertiage Network
@2004
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