Monday, January 12, 2009

Hey “Sneak”

This entry starts with an unrelated quote, “yanno what it's like to rely on FERN for conversation?” So, Here in lies another reminiscent‘s tale. It must have been around-about 1973, Phillip our youngest son three going on four was already sneakily learning to think on his feet. He was becoming character to be reckoned with. Liking in this tale, Should his mother be making Sunday Morning’s raised donuts, deep frying bread dough, as she was accustomed. Phillip’s love for his mother and her donuts was never higher than that year and/or the next. So fond of her donuts he had taken up two fisted eating them while repeatedly walking through all the rooms of our home, smiling, just smiling. Yeah sure! We’d learn later that while he appeared to be eating two donuts at the same time, he was actually taking a single bite out of one and hiding it somewhere: in a drawer, behind a book or three in a bookcase, any place where it’d be out of sight, and every body else’s mind. When the last known donut had been presumably eatened by any one the rest of the eight of us, here’d come Phillip proudly walking by all of us with a big possum’s eating grin on his face, meaning, I got something you ain‘t got, the rest of us wondering where he’d found just one more uneatened donut. And, the missing bite, was his assurance nobody else will have eatened it.
When we had finally caught onto his sneaky hording tricks he’d earned for himself the nickname “Sneak.” Phillip proudly accepted his nickname as that of a crafty entrepreneur of covert activates having fooled the rest of us with an act ver this or that.
So it came pass we all got to calling him Sneak, That was until one day when me, my oldest and youngest son’s with me we were shopping a Quality Farm Fleet Store some forty mile from home, we’d all become separated. Well, its not a particularly good idea to leave a four year old moseying about a farm store with so many interesting products to get a growing boy’s imagination, not even speaking of counters or shelve ladened with farmyard liking toys. My eldest son tall enough I could see of his whereabouts at all times, I started calling out his name, “Sneak!” walking an aisle or two repeating myself, “Sneak!” until I caught up with number one son. “Dad.” he says, “The way some people are starting to look at us, it might be a good idea, we quit calling Phillip, “Sneak.” Right he was. The nickname laid on him for only a few months, it indeed was a good idea to change our out in public ways. And so it had come to pass, that’s the way this tale come about back in 1974.
No prolonged signs any headaches coming on, I thought I had a good day started. So, I set out to start accomplishing something in that light today. Chores split up over the day they were preformed easy enough. Thought I try fixing a couple tires in the shop. Shucks one of the air hoses was frozen. Took that into Bro’s house to thaw. He hadn’t eatened yet for the day. It was his treat over at the Crossroads. All what was managed taken care of today was taking the through-out bearing out of the 4020 JD. Then found the replacement part wasn’t going to work. Interesting. So while Bro. chased a replacement part I emptied Ugly all the stuff what should have been emptied out of truck long ago.
Picked up calf primer feeds, hauled and fueled Ollie gasser. Some wood in, trash hauled out, a couple phone calls made; this has been my Shorthorn country day. BGKC.

1 comment:

Kelly said...

He he...Sneak, I like that. I enjoyed reading this story of days gone by. It put a smile on my face for sure. :) XOXO Kelly