Granny5
02-12-2008, 07:08 AM
This is from my blog. I thought I'd post it here and see if anyone has any critical comments. Thanks.
Small towns are wonderful places to grow up. Everyone knows everyone, neighbors help each other with anything that needs help, and kids are watched over by everyone, even when the kids don’t want to be watched over. When I was growing up, I knew that if I needed anything and my Mother wasn’t available, all I had to do was knock on the nearest door and I would be taken care of.
Of course, my home town was pretty small. The sign just outside town said pop. 1159 and it still says that, even though most everyone my age has moved away. I guess the ones who stayed have had a lot of babies. We grew up knowing whose apple tree we could pick from, whose cotton field we could play hide and seek in, and who had fresh pump water when we were out riding our bikes and got thirsty.
There wasn’t much entertainment in our town. We had one movie theater that was only open on Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays. There was one café and then there was Bob’s Drug Store. Bob’s was where everyone hung out after school and on weekends. He had an old fashioned fountain and always had the cutest guy in town as the soda jerk. But most importantly, he had a juke box with all the best rock music in town. Well, the only rock music in town. We would all go to Bob’s after school and have a coke and listen to music until time to eat supper and start homework. It was the hub of a teen’s social life. Bob would keep an eye on everyone and make sure we behaved ourselves. Any transgressions wouldn’t result in the town policeman being called, but in your parents being called. Sometimes we would all wish for the policeman.
One Saturday afternoon after chores were done and everyone was at Bob’s listening to music and dragging out the last of our cokes, I fell into the ‘I dare you’ trap. Now some folks may not think of a dare as a trap but this one was, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Me and my girlfriends were singing along to “All You Need Is Love” and having a pretty good time when a group of guys came in and sat at the next booth. They were all smoking and blowing their smoke our way. One was smoking a cigar. Back then this wasn’t the big deal that it is now, you know. We totally understood that they just wanted to start up a conversation with us. So we chatted and laughed and drank more sodas. One of the guys, who was in town for the summer visiting his Grandpa from California, dared me to smoke one of his cigars. Well, no California dude was going to think I wasn’t able to keep up with him. So, with my girlfriends cheering me on, I lit up a Roy Tan and proceeded to smoke it. No one ever told me not to inhale.
Leaving the Drug Store upright without upchucking was the hardest thing I had ever done at that point in my life. I just couldn’t let the guys see me puke. I was so sick I’m sure I was literally green. All I wanted to do was lie down in the cool grass until my head stopped spinning, but I had six blocks to walk to get home. Thank goodness there were alleys all the way because I threw up about every 15 steps. I don’t remember ever being so darn sick. I just wanted to go home and lie down until it passed.
As I approached the house, I saw my Mother on the porch. I knew something was up because she had her hands on her hips and was tapping a toe. I figured one of the boys had gotten into some kind of trouble and she was watching for him to show his face. But I knew I was just too sick to stick around for the fireworks that usually occurred when Mom was pissed off at one of them. I was dying. This was the worse feeling I had ever experienced.
Well, I was wrong. She was waiting for me. It seems that my Uncle had passed Bob’s that afternoon and had seen me sitting inside smoking a cigar. Of course, he hurried by the house to let my Mom know all about it. She was loaded for bear, too. All I could say was “Can’t this wait till I feel better?” and “Mom, I’m going to puke.” Having my Mother THAT mad at me was my worse experience! I haven’t been able to stand the smell of cigars since.
Small towns are wonderful places to grow up. Everyone knows everyone, neighbors help each other with anything that needs help, and kids are watched over by everyone, even when the kids don’t want to be watched over. When I was growing up, I knew that if I needed anything and my Mother wasn’t available, all I had to do was knock on the nearest door and I would be taken care of.
Of course, my home town was pretty small. The sign just outside town said pop. 1159 and it still says that, even though most everyone my age has moved away. I guess the ones who stayed have had a lot of babies. We grew up knowing whose apple tree we could pick from, whose cotton field we could play hide and seek in, and who had fresh pump water when we were out riding our bikes and got thirsty.
There wasn’t much entertainment in our town. We had one movie theater that was only open on Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays. There was one café and then there was Bob’s Drug Store. Bob’s was where everyone hung out after school and on weekends. He had an old fashioned fountain and always had the cutest guy in town as the soda jerk. But most importantly, he had a juke box with all the best rock music in town. Well, the only rock music in town. We would all go to Bob’s after school and have a coke and listen to music until time to eat supper and start homework. It was the hub of a teen’s social life. Bob would keep an eye on everyone and make sure we behaved ourselves. Any transgressions wouldn’t result in the town policeman being called, but in your parents being called. Sometimes we would all wish for the policeman.
One Saturday afternoon after chores were done and everyone was at Bob’s listening to music and dragging out the last of our cokes, I fell into the ‘I dare you’ trap. Now some folks may not think of a dare as a trap but this one was, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Me and my girlfriends were singing along to “All You Need Is Love” and having a pretty good time when a group of guys came in and sat at the next booth. They were all smoking and blowing their smoke our way. One was smoking a cigar. Back then this wasn’t the big deal that it is now, you know. We totally understood that they just wanted to start up a conversation with us. So we chatted and laughed and drank more sodas. One of the guys, who was in town for the summer visiting his Grandpa from California, dared me to smoke one of his cigars. Well, no California dude was going to think I wasn’t able to keep up with him. So, with my girlfriends cheering me on, I lit up a Roy Tan and proceeded to smoke it. No one ever told me not to inhale.
Leaving the Drug Store upright without upchucking was the hardest thing I had ever done at that point in my life. I just couldn’t let the guys see me puke. I was so sick I’m sure I was literally green. All I wanted to do was lie down in the cool grass until my head stopped spinning, but I had six blocks to walk to get home. Thank goodness there were alleys all the way because I threw up about every 15 steps. I don’t remember ever being so darn sick. I just wanted to go home and lie down until it passed.
As I approached the house, I saw my Mother on the porch. I knew something was up because she had her hands on her hips and was tapping a toe. I figured one of the boys had gotten into some kind of trouble and she was watching for him to show his face. But I knew I was just too sick to stick around for the fireworks that usually occurred when Mom was pissed off at one of them. I was dying. This was the worse feeling I had ever experienced.
Well, I was wrong. She was waiting for me. It seems that my Uncle had passed Bob’s that afternoon and had seen me sitting inside smoking a cigar. Of course, he hurried by the house to let my Mom know all about it. She was loaded for bear, too. All I could say was “Can’t this wait till I feel better?” and “Mom, I’m going to puke.” Having my Mother THAT mad at me was my worse experience! I haven’t been able to stand the smell of cigars since.