Jim's Woods: Sapling E-Book

Jim E. Beer

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Jim's Woods: Sapling, is a collection of true stories from my childhood and youth. I grew up in the seventies and eighties in the country and suburbs. A lot of what I experienced back then is an interesting mixture of traditional country life and suburban past times. Some of my life was easy, but some of it involved heartache and soul crushing difficulty. I was abandoned by my mother at birth and haven't a clue who she, or my father is, or was. Lucky enough to be adopted by good folk, with good intentions... my road through the woods led me to some interesting places.

Leseprobe

Jim E. Beer

Jim's Woods: Sapling

True stories from growing up in the countryside.

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Early on: In Jerseyville

The Strawberry Socials

 Every summer at Jerseyville United church, they held the 'Strawberry Social'. I think it was $2 or less to get in for the supper. All you could eat turkey, potato salad, mini-marshmallows In jello etc...and huge amounts of Strawberry shortcake with whip cream for dessert. There were games, hayrides and Mr. Calder, my school friend's father, would fire up his old steam tractor to pull a hay-wagon for us kids around the village and up Fields road. Behind the church was a grassy hill, which led down to Jerseyville creek. Therefore, we called it Jerseyville hill, which we would toboggan down in the winter. There were some minor mishaps along the way each winter while we were tobogganing. None too serious, but my older brother got his jaw broken while sliding down the hill on a 'Crazy Carpet' . It happened when our next door neighbor's boy, Josh, who was quite a bit younger than us, plowed into the side of his face with a wooden sled. He was riding solo on a 5 person solid wood toboggan. I remember visiting my brother in the hospital, where he had his jaw wired shut to heal. The nurses had clipped a pair of wire cutters to his shirt front. So that in case he were to get sick and vomit, he could snip the wires inside his mouth, so as not to choke on his barf. Pretty serious indeed. The creek at the bottom of Jerseyville hill ran through the field, up and under Jerseyville road. If the snow were good and you had a good run on a crazy carpet, or maybe one of those GT-Sno Racers, (you know the ones with 3 skiis?) You could slide down Jerseyville hill towards the creek, which was exciting, because you never knew if this time, you just might hit the creek. Extremely rare, never happened. A good run would bring you within feet of it, but not quite in the drink. The deepest spots would be iced over. Except one time. After a perfect snowfall of a few feet of soft snow. A school friend of ours, Ronnie, who lived outside the village and up Field's road a bit, grabbed his brand new 'Crazy Carpet' and walked down to meet us. It was Christmas holidays, so it was chaos on the hill. Everybody was out with their sleds and toboggans and crazy carpets, all trying to find the best spot on the hill, which of course was right down the middle. You kinda had to time your run, or you'd take somebody's legs out. Usually a little kid's, cuz they were slow gettin' up the hill. You have people dodging each other, wiping out in the snow on purpose to hopefully avoid collisions, and all of us are trying to stay clear of Josh and his six foot long, solid oak, 'battle toboggan'. Ronnie had gotten a brand new 'Crazy carpet' for Christmas. Blue plastic with the cut out handles at the front. Those handles were important, on a good hill, if you caught air, gripping those handles was the only thing between a nice jump or a mouthful of snow. The new crazy carpets are especially apt at going the distance...So when Ronnie saw an opening, he took it. A nice running dive, with his carpet in front of him, gripping the handles. My brother and I and a few others of us watched him go. Jerseyville hill wasn't all that tall, or grand but it was good and steep and just long enough to give you that tingle in your gut and the smile on your face. Ronnie had some good speed and caught a little air over a jump someone had made. He was looking good and the brand new plastic of the crazy carpet on the fresh snow helped sustain his speed. At the bottom of the hill, where most of us would've slowed to a stop, he kept going. He leveled out at the bottom, not losing much speed at all and went on ploughing through dry weeds and tall, brittle golden rod. "Oh my god he's gonna hit the creek!" My brother cried. I just stood there laughing. Surely he's going to bail instead of going into the creek. He clearly had speed to make it and more but still not enough required to try and jump the creek. Jumping the creek was not an option, you'd have to have a ramp...and probably a snowmobile... Surely he'll 'bail'...As we watched Ronnie go, I tried to gauge where the creek would be. We couldn't see it from where we were, the plain was just white with snow and all looked the same. None of the features of the creek were visible. . . And then he just disappeared! Poof! Like that. We ran downhill, towards the creek to help Ronnie. Confident that he was fine, but still slightly terrified that the creek might be running uncharacteristically strong. Three of us got there at the same time and we fell through the ice too, just a couple feet down onto our butts. It was only a lip of some really thin ice, covered in thick soft snow. The creek was just a trickle and where we sat out of breath, was actually on the grassy bank of the creek. Ronnie was still lying on his belly, on his crazy carpet, gripping those handles and laughing so hard his face was red. We were starting to laugh too, as more kids collected behind us, we stared at him with disbelief, and Ronnie was just laughing his ass off now, it was contagious. It was kind of surreal, almost Alice in wonderland weird. Ronnie still lay there, in his snowsuit, on his crazy carpet, and the creek, that was probably a foot deep and maybe two feet wide, chuckled happily away beneath him. We gave him a hand up and helped each other out of the little snow chasm. Ronnie's clothes were still dry underneath his snowsuit, those snowsuits are awesome! That meant he was still good to go and so were we. So we did. But no more creek that day. We tried, over and over to get a similar run. I guess once was enough. He'd set the bar and that was the fun of it now...hit the creek, or get a broken jaw trying.

Nam

 Nam Summer of 1982, Jerseyville, Ontario. Prosser's Pond.