Chapter 9

Walking out our front door and turning left. You would cross over the street that led into our development. Around a slight bend to a couple of completed homes.

Behind these homes was a holdout. A farmer who was still in operation. I recall a friend telling me that we could sneak through the fence and go watch the fish in his pond.

No Trespassing! Keep Out! What did these signs mean to us? Nothing. We crawled through the fence and made our way through the corn stalks. Near the end of one row was a very large pond. And in the pond you could see all kinds of colorful fish swimming around.

I feel like I should be blogging, or Tweeting, but this is draining enough. I don't know if I could keep up at the pace those efforts sometimes require.

I just realized that I haven't showered in a couple of days. Sure, I've eaten and slept and actually interacted with people. I just haven't made the time to shower and shave so I could keep up on the visiting memories in my mind.

Sorry. I don't mean to interrupt my story. I really do hate cliffhangers. I do not want to be dangling anything for you or for me.

I recall we were crawling from one spot to another. Watching the fish swimming in the pond. My buddy, Mark, comes to my mind, stood to go look for a piece of wood so we could 'go fishing'.

No sooner than he was on his feet there was a scream from about 100 feet away.

"Hey you kids! What are you doing on my property?!"

That he was carrying a shotgun in his hands was not lost on either of us!

We made a mad dash for the fence. I recall getting through and glancing back. He was still coming and looked like he would just crash on through his gate.

I'm shaking as I write this memory down. I can feel the terror and adrenaline of trying to get away from this crazy man.

We dashed into another friend's garage. We both knew the family. We knew we had to get away.

They were eating a meal. All sitting around their table. We apologized for dashing through on our way to their back door.

We were 10 years old. So much for clean getaways and anonymous trespassing on the farmer's property.

I remember thinking I was safe. I had made it home. Mark and I huddled in my kitchen. Catching our breath. Calming our nerves.

I can see mom answering the front door. A brief conversation and the farmer was welcomed into our living room. There was no gun. Gulp!

I remember apologizing. I only wanted to see the pretty colored fish I kept hearing about from others.

He did not demand anything. Only suggested that next time come to the front door. If he wasn't busy he would gladly let us look.

He was an older man. More like a grandfather figure. And he was not scary up close as he'd been from yards away. Phew!

Needless to say, my wandering in the neighborhood was more closely monitored after that.

Mom was selling Avon at the time and I know I spent many a boring hour sitting in the car while she went to meetings and sales calls.

Gradually my sentence was commuted and at some point I was able to play with friends once again. Just not Mark. LOL