Happy Trails to You ? Nope.

Growing up in Sherwood Park was great. It afforded us a place to play by the river and a large area of woods. It was a much different neighborhood than our friends' that grew up in Castle Hill. We, of course, had the spring floods that - at that time - were great. It gave us time off school and we played in the water. It was also an area where we had a range of animals from dogs to cows and, yes, even horses.

Our family lived at 109 Greenview Drive. We had a huge yard that supported many events such as basketball, baseball, football, and many other types of games. We were surrounded by wooded lots. But, across the road was a cement block building that was turned into a horse stable. The Thomson's moved several horses onto the property. Now, I was a big fan of the TV cowboy era. Roy Rogers, The Lone Ranger, Gunsmoke and all of the other shows. So my plan was to hang out in the corner of our yard that was closest to the horse barn. Maybe I would get an invitation to come for a visit.

It was a warm summer day and it was my task for the day (and it took a day) to cut the grass in our yard. It suddenly came to me that I could take all the grass clippings and make snack size bales of hay for the horses! I found an old metal lunch box in the basement. I crammed the grass into the box and ta-da mini-bales! I made about a dozen bales and waited for Merle to show up. It was an hour or so and there he was. So I took over a couple of bales and asked Merle if he could use some hay. He was so nice he said he would take them; but, they would have to dry out a bit before he could use them. He asked me if I would like to help him in the barn. I told him I would have to ask Mom if it was okay. So I ran back to the house and asked Mom if I could help Merle over at the horse barn. She said it was okay but I could not ride the horses. Damn... that was as bad as the old "you could shoot your eye out" ploy.

So what was my job to be at the horse barn? Yep, you guessed it... scoop the poop and help feed the horses. These chores carried on for several weeks. Merle said, "Tom, you have really been helpful here. How would you like to ride one of the horses today?" All right!  Hi Ho Silver! I'm hittin' the dusty trail! I told Merle I would have to ask Mom and I would be right back. I ran so fast that my Keds shoes nearly melted. Out of breath I told Mom that Merle asked if I would like to ride one of the horses. She said. "NO" and not to ask again. Oh no... how was I going to get to Dodge City? The Lone Ranger would be waiting on the outskirts of town for me and all I could ride to meet him was a STICK. Dejected, I went back and told Merle that I couldn't ride the horse because Mom said no. I kept on helping Merle and working Mom with several schemes like "Look at this Mom! Trigger just saved Roy Rogers!  You have to see this, quick!" Surely this would show her how noble a horse really is and I would be just fine riding one of them. Still the answer was NO.

It was a Saturday morning and Mom said that she and Dad were going to Cedar Rapids and that I was to hang around the house. This was one time I would be home alone. I don't remember where everyone else was that day but that was okay. Mom and Dad loaded up and went down the road. Perfect!  I went across the road and told Merle, "Hey, let's saddle up one of the horses for me to ride. My dad said it was alright!" There was a horse that reminded me of Champion, Gene Autry's horse. So I mounted up and headed out to the Plains - better known as the pasture. The pasture was about 100 yards long and ran along side our road. I was riding down the path and I looked to my right and there was Mom and Dad riding along side me. I got "the look" and Dad pointed sternly. I knew that meant to get off the horse and come home NOW. I thanked Merle and walked as slow as I could home hoping that time would stand still and cooler heads would prevail. Would the Lone Ranger's dad punish him for riding a horse? Would Roy Rogers' dad tan his hide for riding a horse? Well mine did! After that little experience I didn't even want to ride the merry-go-round. My rear end was as red as a western sunset. Saddle sore had a whole new meaning. So I wasn't singing Happy Trails.

A Lesson in Civics

This is another guest spot from Tom.  This story is about my lesson on Civics, painful as it was!  This took place toward the mid year of 6th grade at Castle Hill school. (Castle Hill, yes that's the school for me.  I'm proud and glad to give it my loyalty.  So dear Castle Hill, best school in Waterloo, I promise to be faithful ever more to you... OK, stop singing the Castle Hill song.)    

It was a Friday after school and I wanted to go over to a friend's house.  But first maybe I should go back to part of my day in school.  It was in Mrs. Woodward's class and I don't remember just how we got on to the subject of freedom of speech; but, Mrs. Woodward tried to explain how we all enjoyed the freedom of speech.  Wow I thought that was neat and it stuck in my memory.  You go to school to learn and be able to exercise your the newly discovered information. These moments make your parents proud... usually.

Now back to unfold my lesson on Civics.  I was changing out of my school clothes to go over to a friend's house to play out in the woods of Sherwood Park.  Mom asked where I thought I was going and I told her I was going over to Ray Moses' house.  Mom told me that I could not go because we (the family) were going to do something later.  Well that didn't sit well with me so I argued my point with Mom.  Still the answer was "no."  I begged and promised to be back before we had to leave.  Still, I heard "NO."  So, I just walked out and started to head out to Ray's house.  Seemed simple.  Mom was on the porch telling me I better not leave.  I continued to plead my case and Mom told me to shut up and get in the house.  OK, Mrs. Woodward's speech on freedom of speech rushed into my brain!  I was about to exercise my constitutional right!  WRONG!  Damn, I wish Mrs. Woodward would have told me about the right to remain silent.  Too late, Little Patriot.  So, I yelled back, "I don't have to shut up. I have the freedom of speech," and I just kept walking to Ray's house. I got there and Ray's mom told me Ray couldn't come out and I was to go right home.

It was a long, slow, reflective walk home.  I thought to myself,  "What is my fate going to be?"  Surely I was going to be safe.  I had only invoked my Constitutional right.  I still had the feeling that I was a dead man walking.  Mom didn't say anything to me when I came into the house.  This was like a new power!  What other rights did I have that I could use to my advantage?!

The thing I didn't think about was what Dad's reaction would be to the Constitutional debate.  Dad got home and we entered into a pretty one-sided debate.  It was then that I found out I didn't have the freedom of speech; nor, did I have the ability to sit for a while.  Once more a painful end.  Why didn't they have a time out back in those days?  So, to my nephews and nieces, if you need any Constitutional advice on your rights, feel free to drop me a line!
 

PEEP a Story of Cause and Effect

To start,  I am Tom, your guest host for this edition of My Funny Family. I am number two in the sibling order of the eight; or, for the Star Trek people 2 of 8. I am the formerly displaced Iowan that successfully escaped Florida. I retired and am embarking on a new career with the Ford Motor company. Well enough of my intro.

Growing up with eight brothers and sisters you had to have a sense of humor. We all have the Schell humor gene and I always felt I got maybe a little more of Dad's sense of humor. That was fun most of the time but it had some drawbacks that weren't fun at times. The following story is one of the many events of our life in a larger family unit. None of the names will be changed to protect anybody...  enjoy!


Let's start with our cast of players:

• Bill Schell, the Father and administrator of discipline
• Steve, the villain of this story. 
• Tim and Mike, minor roles and not so innocent bystanders. 
• And, Tom, the victim.

It was getting late in the evening and time for bed because it was a school night. Mom and Dad would start with "It's time for bed " or "Get back to bed it's late". That was our cue to go to the back bedrooms. All four boys in one room; and, at the time, Cindy in her room. The three youngest girls were not members of our cast as of yet.

Now having four boys in one room was a matter of necessity and at times a point of fun or conflict. We were in our room and talking and cutting up. We got a little loud and Dad made his first trip back in his role as the enforcer. We heard the floorboards creek and Dad poked his head in the room and he said "Shut up and go to bed it's late." So we shut up and went to bed......right. We were quiet for a while but the noise level built to a level that warranted a second, more stern warning. There went the floorboards again and this time the door was open all the way. Dad said, "Shut up and go to sleep and don't make me come back here again. I mean it."  OK we had better settle down and get to sleep... yeah right.  There we went again laughing and being boys. Nothing wrong with that... wrong again!  This time the floorboards had kind of a snap to them!  The door opened and this time Dad came in the room and we all got the "look" and the warning of impending pain.  He said, "If I come back here one more time, I'm bringing the belt.  Now get to bed!"  OK nuff said... RIGHT.  We shut up and all laid down for a couple of minutes.  There was just too much that had gone on during the day and we had to get our briefing to each other done.  Our volume buttons started to crank up and the floorboards sounded once more... damn!  There was Dad in the doorway with a stone face but thankfully no belt.  Dad was done with these trips and he said those fateful words, "If I come back here one more time, I am bringing the belt. I don't want to hear one more PEEP out of you.  Go to bed!"  Then it happened!  What possessed Steve to mutter that fateful word?  Why did he say it?  Why did he say the word "PEEP" for Dad to hear?  He wasn't that far out of the room.  He stopped and turned and there he was.  He had drawn his line in the sand and we  had crossed it.

Now I was the one with the quick comeback most of the time.  Mr. Independent.  Push the envelope a little.  But this time I was not the culprit.  Believe or not, I was innocent.  Really!

Dad came back and grabbed ME and delivered on his promise (no belt though).  It was as if time slowed down.  It was like one of those Sam Peckinpah films.  It seemed to be minutes instead of seconds.  I got a good old fashioned 1950's ass paddling.  I cried out, "It wasn't me.  It wasn't me!!!"  No chance... momentum had taken over.  Dad was on his mission to deal out the punishment.  I looked over and saw Tim and Mike in the corner of their bunk beds. Their mouths wide open and their eyes were as big as saucers.  You could feel their empathy for my plight.  Finally, it was over.  Dad's iron grip on my arm was released.  He said, "GO TO BED NOW!!"

Well we shut up and shuddered in fear.  Not much was said.  But then the hockey player decided to come out to exact a little justice.  With tears still in my eyes, I jumped out of my bed and started pushing Steve and asked, "Why?!" Whoops!   There was Dad again!  He grabbed me again and said, "I guess you didn't have enough the first time right?" Ass paddling Part 2 was in full effect and it was a  bit harder this time.  I could tell Tim and Mike were hoping "Please spare him, Lord."  They were wrapping themselves in their blankets thinking this may somehow discourage Dad from doling out more punishment if he had to unwrap them from their package.

If this had taken place today, it would have been a kinder and gentler form of punishment.  It would have been more of a negotiation.  First, Dad would have come back with, "I'm going to count to three. 1-2-3."  If a second trip was needed, it would have been the Timeout.  This is where I would be given a chance to go off to a designated place and reflect on my behavior.  Then comeback to talk about my behavior and apologize.  Then if I had crossed the line, I would have gotten the "This is going to hurt me more than you" line with a quick swat one time with the finger point and "Now behave."  I know I can hear you, Dad, "YEAH RIGHT. HA!"

So now it is in black and white for all to read.  The healing process can now begin.  This is easier than going on Dr.Phil.  So go out there and don't spare the rod and spoil the child.  There should be a cause and effect.  It has not diminished my love of family.  So, Steve, I forgive you, but I still owe you a PEEP.