| The Yellow Jacket Combat Team |
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Heart! ~ If you are not a subscriber and this has been passed on to you, join us by sending a blank e-mail to four_ears @ msn.com (remove spaces) with "subscribe" in the subject line. And get the love direct! Tour our web site: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 ________________________________________________________ "A smile is a curve that sets everything straight." - Phyllis Diller ________________________________________________________ Welcome back one of my favorite writers of nostalgia - Mark Crider! ________________________________________________________ BATTERS AND DIRTER, AKA THE YELLOW JACKET COMBAT TEAM "Yep! Got to be at least a hundred or so on the nest." "'Bout how big is it?" "Four, maybe five inches across." "OK! You go round up the other members, and I'll get the paddles from the clubhouse." Life on Oak Park Avenue in the forties was inspired by not much to do, not enough toys, meanness, or mental conditions. Take your pick. There we were, the "Yellow Jacket Combat Team." Against all odds we would destroy all the wasp nests in the neighborhood. There were five of us and we had three Ping Pong paddles between us. Actually they weren't ping pong paddles, but the little paddles that had a little rubber ball and a rubber string attached to both. They had just come out after the end of the war. We would scout all the bushes, eaves of homes, trees, any place where the ignoble enemy, the yellow jacket wasp, would try to build his fortress-nest. Taking turns with the paddles, three of us would position ourselves back to back near the nests while the two "dirters" would go in for the initial assault with four handfuls of dirt. They would whack the nest with the dirt then run for their lives while we stood for combat, whacking the attacking wasps with the paddles all the time playing like they were Zeros or Messerschmidts. We would get a few, and the wasps would get a few, then we would run like the dickens and get wet baking soda and band aids put on where we got stung. Continual lumps on our faces, arms and necks were our medals and we wore them proudly as any decorated combat veteran. I think my mom suspected, but never knew that fifty some odd years into the future they would develop medicines like Ritalin and Cylert to ward off these mental afflictions that possessed kids like us. Back then we just had straps and switches to subdue the worst behavior, but they let this wasp war kind of insane endeavor go because it did keep the wasp population down and we weren't into something much worse. We had gone a week or more without finding any of the enemy when one of our scouts came in with a sighting of the largest nest we'd ever heard of. He said he saw it while carrying groceries for his mom back from Moore's Grocery store. It was in some rose bushes in Tom Grahams yard/park. He described it as a foot across with thousands of "enemy warriors" on it. Holy cow! What a find. We got our gear together, picked out a coffee can of the finest sandy dirt we could find in the edge of the street then commenced to beg our parents for permission and money to go to Moore's for ice cream at their fountain. The Grahams had a guest house and yard man house there. As we approached the nest and got set up, these two little girls came out of the house dressed in little dresses with petticoats, wanting to play or something. They asked us what we were going to do, and we told them. They, not knowing what was going to happen, wanted to "play too." Us, not thinking about the consequences, let them join us. Just as the two dirters whacked the giant nest, the yard man saw us and ran over hollering, trying to catch us for, what he thought, damaging the rose bush. We whacked a couple of wasps then ran for it. The wasps just swarmed the two little girls and the yard man, eating them alive I guess. We never got stung since we had no time to fight. We went on over to Moore's and had our ice cream, read some comic books on the shelves, then went on doodling out the door. There he was, the yard man coming in the door. His eyes swollen shut, face swollen and knots all over his arms and neck. He was a mess for sure. He hollered at us and we ran and hid behind the bananas then slipped out the other door. Man! That was close and he was mad. Served him right for foolin' with our war efforts. After we got on home turf a few blocks away we saw him. He had followed us to see where we lived. I ran in the house and told my mom and dad what had happened as the man came to the door. They were laughing so hard they couldn't even talk to the guy when they saw him. He looked like he had eggs under the skin all over his face and arms. Can't believe I didn't get my tail-end tore up like a sow's bed over that, but they thought it was too funny to punish me. Bet those two little girls learned a lesson like the yard man. Mark Crider mark @ cccoating.com Copyright © 2002 by Mark Crider. All rights reserved. _________________________________________________________ HEARTWARMING HEADLINES Join us in congratulating humorist, Betty King (baking2 @ charter.net), on the impending publication of her first book entitled "It Takes Two Mountains to Make a Valley." Congratulations, Betty -- let us know when it hits the stands! Folks, here's a special treat for you. For a first-person view of my great-grandmother, Hattie Brush Murray, through the eyes of her granddaughter, Grace Rasmussen, check out her story on our website at http://geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/. And while you're there, check out Grace's sweet book "Billie-Girl Gets Butterflies" at http://geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/publications.htm. Happy birthday, Grace! _________________________________________________________ QUOTES FROM LESSER KNOWN FOLKS Deep questions: "Mom?" four-year-old Matthew asked. "Do vacuum cleaners have tummies?" ~~~~~~~~ "Mom?" six-year-old Ethan asked. "Who made God?" _________________________________________________________ FAMILY LOVE MOMENT Why do kids' voices sound so much cuter over the telephone? Last week Stephen called me at work. "WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!" I heard in the background as if someone were riding a roller coaster. I heard giggling and squealing and shrieks of delight. All courtesy of our two-year-old, Madison. "What's going on?" I asked Stephen, trying hard not to disrupt my work environment by busting out laughing. Stephen had made a boat out of his legs and was rocking Madison in it as if she were on the high seas. I sat there at my desk, phone to ear, just reveling in their afternoon play before her nap. I could've been jealous of moments like these. But I could only be sure of one thing. Love was being raised in our home. _________________________________________________________ ON THE HOMEFRONT A happy belated birthday to my little sister, Beth Senger-Shaw! Happy birthday to my laidback brother-in-law, Lawrence Theriot, my sister-in-law, Alexis Senger, with whom my brother has found eternal happiness. Lots of love to my brother, Mike, and sister, Gayle - who are just one year apart, and to my talented aunt, Grace Rasmussen. And speaking of birthdays...the long Labor Day weekend meant attending two birthday parties for the boys. One was a bowling party at which six-year-old Ethan presented the birthday honoree, Taylor, with a box he had wrapped in a paper towel. Ethan had found the gift earlier that morning and worried that Taylor would not like it. But the look on Taylor's face said it all as he unwrapped Ethan's present. His reaction was a mixture of fear, revulsion, and fascination. For Ethan had found a live dung beetle scrambling around inside a clear plastic box for all to see. "Ethan," I said, "you found a dung beetle for Taylor?" "No, Mom," he said. "It's a DUMB beetle." "Yeah!" piped up Matthew to everyone within earshot. "And they lay their eggs in poop!" Sillyheads. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We are devastated by the loss of our beloved family pet, Mocha. This morning she was put to sleep due to an invasive cancer in her joints that had spread quickly to her entire body. We are grateful that our Labrador-Doberman mix, who loved our children and protected our home, spent most of her life free to chase after deer and rabbits and to go nosing after armadillos. She had the freedom to swim in the lake not far from our home. As Cody said with tears in his eyes, "Mocha is happy in doggie heaven, right, Mom?" Yes, sweetie, she is. _________________________________________________________ LOVE, JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY four_ears @ msn.com "To live that in thy last long sleep, Smiles my be thine wile all around thee weep." - Nellie L. Wallace, June 24, 1873 _________________________________________________________ This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the decent thing! Ü ________________________________________________________ SUBMIT STORY, QUOTE, OR FAMILY LOVE MOMENT: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/submission.htm FEEDBACK: four_ears @ msn.com ________________________________________________________ |
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