A Valentine Story--Huck Finn Style

She was a tall, lean brunette and best of all, Miss Haney was single. Now, that's a right bit important when yer a 4th-grader and sweet on yer teacher. After all, a fella would have to be lower than a snake's belly to snatch his teacher from her man.

But I knowed I could a done it. It done showed in her eyes that day in class whilest I was a workin' on my paint picture and she up and puts her hand on my shoulder and commenced to make polite conversation.

"That's a interestin' paintin', " says she. "What is it?"

Talk about slick as a greased pig. Why, she knowed what it was; she 'us just doin' her level-headed best to find somethin' to say so's to steal a little extry time with me. She could tell I was pantin' one of them sissy white poodles fer her. Land-a-goshen, she done told me once that them piddley little dawgs was her most favorite kind of animal in the whole world, and I kind a taken that as a hint to do the paintin'.

Well, I just had to spot a way to let Miss Haney know that I was real sweet on her, too. Valentine's Day was a comin' directly and that seemed as good a time as any to learn her of my feelin's. I figerd I could conjure up one of my special homemade cards. Heck! I was a fixin' to make an insultin' card fer my sister Tammy, the "frog." Whilest I was at it, I could make a syruppy-nice one fer my teacher (women folk like them kinds a things).

I set to work on my project the weekend 'fore Valentine's Day. Secretly, I gathered the necessaries which I'd be needin': glue, colored paper, scissors, and markers. Then I stole away to my bedroom, bein' careful to lock the door.I commenced to worry over some poems which was a rattlin' 'round in my noggin. "Hmmm, " I says to myself, "How about:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I seen dead carcasses,
perttier than you.

That one was perfect fer Tammy, my sister. What I most needed now was somethin' just the opposite for Miss Haney's valentine.

Like the roses God has made,
Which glisten in the dew,
And petals soft, their velvet touch
Remindin' me of you,
Of all creations God has made,
Yer His finest deed,
And the day you come into my life,
He truly done blessed me.

Perfect! Why, that poem's so sicknin-sweet it just had to be good.
I was kind of a no-account when it come to artistery type work; so, fer cards, I cut out a pair of foldin' red hearts, great big uns, and on the insides I printed the sayin's I plucked from my brain.
Lookin' at the settin' sun, I realized I was runnin' late fer a game of kick-the-can with the fellas. So, I just slapped them valentines into envelopes and figured I'd sign 'em later, maybe in the mornin'.
I done woked up late and was in the most awfullest hurry to get to school. Well, I wasn't payin' 'tention and as blind as them three mice in that there story, I snatched them envelopes and stuffed one of 'em in my notebook, ta other, I done slid under Tammy's bedroom door.
After a setten' Miss Haney's valentine in the basket on her desk, I took my seat and begun to fill with the most terriblest fright I ever did feel. I done fergot to sign both cards. How could Miss Haney know 'twas me who wrote that there gushy card if'n I fergot to sign the blame thang?
Then I figured it out; she's a right smart lady, she'll be keepin' track of who put their "John Hancock" on the valentines and after worryin' the horns off a billygoat with it, she'd figer 'twas me who fergot to put my chicken scratch on 'er card.
At supper time, kin was gathered to the table a chewin' the fat over the day's happenin's. Fer some reason my sister had been just as sweet as pie to me all afternoon...it was spooky!
"Everybody," says Tammy at the table, "I want to share with y'all a special valentine card I received under my bedroom door this mornin'."
Them vittles I'd just swallered lodged in my throat as Tammy began a readin' the mushy lines from 'er card.
Next mornin', I hussled off to school a hopin' to get there 'fore the other knot-headed kids and explain to Miss Haney about the mix up.
As I came a barrelin' 'round a corner of the school, I liked ta froze as I seen my teacher a standin' at the front doors and a smoochin' some guy fer a good lengthy time. Twas a pitty, tw--as a pitty. That po' heart-broke gal was so crushed by that valentine, she bounded right into the arms of another man.
What hurts even more than losin' Miss Haney to a stranger was havin' to tallerate my sister bein' sweet to me--heck fire, that could bust a guy's reputation.

12 comments:
4evergapeach said...
And the name you forgot to sign was Jethro....right? I mean, a mushy poem like that had to be written by someone who graduated from at least 6th grade! :)
Monday, February 13, 2006 6:56:00 AM EST
Da Gal said...
Ohhhh Doug - I hope you don't mind but I am considering this posting a Valentine to myself. It is the best darn Valentine a girl like myself could hope fer. This hear Valentine story was absolutely delishus. Hope your Valentine's day is full of unsigned valentines and that you love each one!The best part of an unsigned valentine is that you can believe your dream hunk/lady gave it to you and nobody can prove you wrong!
Monday, February 13, 2006 1:37:00 PM EST
Doug Bagley said...
Peach: LOL, I think you're right about that. Should have signed it Jethro.msmegnolia: Thanks for the Valentine well wishes. Hope your's was a good one too.
Monday, February 13, 2006 6:47:00 PM EST
Slim Suzy said...
LOL, I bet you didn't sleep in again when you had something so important to do!Hope your Valentine's Day wishes come true!
Monday, February 13, 2006 10:32:00 PM EST
Debbie said...
You didn't use "Mylins or MY LENS in your story. ha. I've always hated that saying. Can you find me that in a Websters?
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 12:45:00 AM EST
cantellya said...
That is flippin' hysterical! Great post!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 9:43:00 AM EST
wendi said...
now THAT's funny
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 2:32:00 PM EST
Jamie Dawn said...
That story is sooo cute, and sooo cutely told too!What a costly mistake!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 8:48:00 PM EST
Lis said...
AWWWWWWWW what a beautiful story DOUG!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 10:29:00 PM EST
Sonia said...
LOL! That was funny as hell!
Thursday, February 16, 2006 10:32:00 AM EST
SonSon said...
LOL Poor soul, drove her straight into the arms of another man when I'm sure her true heart was already set....Great story. Where you come up with your ideas I'll never know
Saturday, February 18, 2006 3:32:00 AM EST
CameraDawktor said...
Very hillarious! Great story!!

Thanksgiving in Booger Holler

When I was a youngster, the fourth Thursday of November was the time of year when our family participated in that wonderful American tradition of self-inflicted pain and emotional collapse, where total disregard for law, order, and sanity reign in abundance. Yes, the last Thursday of November meant that our annual family Thanksgiving reunion was at hand.

The scene went something like the following. The mid-morning bliss is shattered as the front door to our house is thrown open and at the top of his voice Uncle Broc, the human vacuum, blurts out, "Let's eat; everyone who is someone is here, argh, argh, argh!"

Behind Broc, out of an ancient, grimy Volkswagen bus , a pack of dirty-faced, wrinkled-clothed, human-wolf kids scamper. Aunt Gerdy, Broc's wife, brings up the rear, carrying her infamous coffee cake--for two months before the reunion, she saves the grounds from every pot of coffee she makes and--well, I think you get the picture.

Before long the house fills with the noise of relatives swarming all over the place. Uncles, aunts, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, and cousins engage in shouting matches as everyone tries to converse at once. All the while, the youngest kids are swinging on drapes and hanging from chandeliers acting like Tarzan of the jungle.

Finally, dinner's ready and everyone sits down to enjoy the festive meal.

"Will you say grace?" Dad asks five-year-old Johnny. Little Johnny squints his eyes closed, bows his head, and in a hushed but serious voice says, "Grace."

"Amen," we all say and the loud individual conversations start up again.

"Hey, pass the gravy down this 'er way!" No one hears Uncle Lute's request.

"I SAID PASS THE GRAVY!" Still, his request goes unheard. So Uncle Lute stands up, climbs upon the table and walks down to the opposite end. He then picks up the gravy boat, walks nonchalantly back down the table to his chair, and sits down to devour his meal, and the situation deteriorates from there.

Sometime during the course of the meal, as Cousin Clouse was eating turkey, a long string of skin from the bird gets caught in his throat, cutting off his air. Choking and gasping, Clouse puts his hands around his neck to indicate that he's having trouble breathing.

"Look at Clouse!" someone yells, and everyone laughs uncontrollably.

Yeah, Clouse is up to his old Thanksgiving clowning, making believe he is choking on his food just to get a laugh from everyone.

Well, after Clouse's face and lips turn purple from lack of oxygen, we figure he isn't kidding this time and, in an effort to dislodge whatever is blocking his windpipe, the adults pounce on him at once.

With 60 pair of hands down his throat, and just as many knees in his chest and stomach, Clause fights back and tempers fly. What starts out as an act of mercy now turns into total mayhem. Soon a wad of people are rolling on the carpet, cursing and clawing each other like wild and unruly alley cats.

Crash! Under the table they go. Thump! Over goes the table with our festive dinner. Smash! Through the screen door and out onto the lawn they roll for all the neighbors to observe.

After posting bail for most of the family, we send everyone home and return to the scene of the crime, trying to salvage what we can of our holiday meal.

You know, for a long time I thought the Thanks part of the holiday was that Thanksgiving only comes once a year.

6 comments:

Lis said...
HAHAAAAAAAA!Aren't families....and holidays........and holidays with the family GRAND?????The kids and I were talking about "wolf-children" just the other day when a dinner conversation went strangly awry. It was so bizarre that I felt compelled to post it. LOL. Have a great week.Lis
Sunday, November 20, 2005 7:51:00 PM EST

Valerie said...
rock on, brother...i also am about to venture off to in-laws for the annual soap opera called Thanksgiving Dinner.family. gotta love 'em.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005 1:48:00 AM EST

Debbie said...
Doug, we need to check and see if we're related. :)
Friday, November 25, 2005 2:15:00 PM EST

Da Gal said...
Another wonderful visual - I abandoned the pattern of thanksgiving this year by house/dog/cat sitting for friends and hosting a "charlie-brown thanksgiving" for a few friends who had nowhere else to go. Together the four of us had a grand time and enjoyed some good food and card games afterward. I'd love to see your families rap sheets!Blessings to you and yours.
Friday, November 25, 2005 5:06:00 PM EST

Ivy the Goober said...
My parents used to be friends with Frank Bagley and ? I can't remember the wife's name but I can picture her! Any relation?
Saturday, November 26, 2005 11:31:00 PM EST

Slim Suzy said...
LOL, all I can say is "thank goodness" we don't have "Thanksgiving" in Australia!Do you get to do it all again on Christmas Day?
Monday, November 28, 2005 10:47:00 PM EST

Sweet Revenge (A Skunky and Me Halloween)

When I was a kid, Halloween was a yearly contest to see if you could make it home after trick-or-treating without the town bullies, Billy and Bob Bellywacker, taking your candy. Skunky Wilson, my childhood friend and partner in mischief, and I almost always lost that contest.But, when we were 13 years old, it being our last year for trick-or-treating (in Booger Holler there was a well known but unwritten law that 14 was the cut off age for trick-or-treating) , we figured we’d give the Bellywacker boys something to remember us by.

So, Skunky and I moseyed on down to the local drug store and bought some chocolate laxatives. We scraped the brand name off of each individual morsel, wrapped them in cellophane paper, and put them in our Halloween bags.

Sure enough, Halloween night, like field hawks the Bellywackers swooped down on us and we felt the air leave our lungs as they slugged us in the stomach.With breath that smelled like rotten road kill, Billy said, “Awl right, pig-dogs, hand over yer loot.”

“Oh, please don’t hurt us. Take it all, but please don’t hurt us.” I said, trying to sound horrified, which I was.

“YYYYes! You can have it all. Jjjjjust don’t bbbeat us!” Skunky was always a ham.After the Bellywacker boys took our candy and shoved us on our way, Skunky and I headed to the open field where the annual Halloween carnival was held. We were looking forward to trying our luck at the games there to see what we could win.

The night drew on, and before long it was time to leave. Well, we’d won our share of trinkets at that carnival, and as we headed home we were laughing, giggling, and carrying on over our good fortune when all of a sudden, who should jump out at us from the cover of night? THE BELLYWACKER BOYS!

“Give us yer prizes or we’ll send you home a-carryin’ yer innerds in a sack,” Bob snorted (word traveled fast in our little hillbilly town, especially when it came to winning a lot of loot at a carnival).

“No way!” said Skunky, “Y’all have to skin us first.”

“Us?” I said. “You got a mouse in your pocket?” Hey, I was seeing my short time on earth coming to a premature end. It was the best I could think of to say at the time.

Well, Billy grabbed Skunky by the coat collar and Bob grabbed me. Each brother pulled back his free arm and made a fist. Then, just when they were ready to release their fury upon us, Bob let go of me and let out a moan that sounded akin to a moose with severe intestinal trouble.

Within seconds of Bob’s painful noise, I heard a wild rumble and a grunt. Turning to my left, I saw Billy release his grip on Skunky, and the brothers, bending over and clutching their stomachs, headed home.

The next couple of days in our town were the most peaceful we’d seen in a very long time. You don’t suppose it had something to do with the fact that Billy and Bob were home fighting over the commode do you? Too bad they just had the one in the whole house.

A New Year's Prank

Traditionally, New Years Eve is a time of celebration for many people, and for Uncle Billy Roy Silas and Aunt Betsy it was no different. So, when Billy Roy and Betsy received two invitations to attend two different New Years parties, they couldn't begin to express their delight.The first invitation was to Billy Roy's company party. The second one was to Granny and Grandpa Chimchuck's family get together.

Tempting as it was to attend the company party, if for no other reason than to find out what a horse derv (hors d'ouevvre) was, Billy and Betsy knew they would be sorry if they missed the Chimchuck party. As Billy Roy would say, "Thars somthin' always a goin' on thar."

By the time Uncle Billy and Aunt Betsy arrived at the party Granny Chimchuck, along with most of the other women, was busy restoring her kitchen to its proper order. It never failed, after the grand kids, great grand kids, cousins, nephews, and nieces finished with the annual fudge making and taffy pulling, Granny Chimchuck's kitchen was virtually decimated.

Once the kitchen was put back, the board games were pulled out of moth balls and set up at various card tables for the youngsters to play. Invariably, eight-year-old Scooter Chimchuck (the youngest of the grandchildren) and Granny would end up at the same card table, opposing each other in a game.

Now, before you get to wondering what's wrong with a grandmother and her grandson playing a game together, you have to understand that both Granny and Scooter weren't good losers. To complicate matters, both of them always had their own set of rules to the games, and these rules were usually made up as the contest progressed. Naturally, Granny and Scooter always ended up in heated debates over who broke what rule and what was or wasn't a real rule to begin with.
Inevitably, the game ended with Scooter's mom chewing both of them out and putting the game back in moth balls before a winner could ever be determined.

Anyway, this particular New Years party turned out to be one of the most fun parties Billy and Betsy ever attended. You see, it was a tradition in the family that at 11:55 p.m. Grandpa Chimchuck would grab his shot gun, step out on the back porch, and shoot his rifle into the air at the stroke of midnight.

Well, Billy Roy's favorite cousin, Jefferson Robert Tartin, approached Billy with what he considered to be a great joke to play on Gramps. "Hey Billy," he said. "Downstairs in Gramps freezer is a couple of frozen squirrels he's been a savin' fer some time now [Grandpa Chimchuck loved his squirrel meat and always had a stock of them in the freezer]. I gotta an idee of what we can do with one of 'em fer a joke on ol' Grampy."Billy liked Jeff Robert's idea and at around 11:30 p.m. they began to implement their plan.

After putting on a pair of gloves, they snuck down to the basement and pulled out a frozen, skinned, squirrel. Quietly, they made their way outside where Billy Roy, squirrel in hand, shimmied up the huge walnut tree that hung over the back porch. Once Billy was in place, he waited for Grandpa Chimchuck to step outside with his shotgun.

Somewhere between 11:55 p.m. and midnight, Gramps stepped out of the house, shotgun in hand. When the big clock in the house began its 12 loud bongs, announcing the arrival of the new year, Grampy pointed his rifle straight up into the air and gently squeezed the trigger.

BOOM!The night air was pierced with the resounding blast of the shotgun, and within seconds of the blast, a dead, skinned squirrel fell from the walnut tree, landing at Grandpa's feet."Well, I'll be switched. Hey, ever'body, looky here. Now that there is some fine shootin', huh?!" he called out.

Try as they may, the family couldn't convince Grampy Chimchuck that it wasn't his fancy shooting that brought down and skinned the squirrel all at the same time. Finally, after all efforts to persuade Gramps that somebody had played a trick on him were exhausted, one by one family members traipsed back inside the house.

After awhile, Grampa Chimchuck sauntered into the living room, "Next fall," he announced to the family, "I'm a gonna shoot that ole shotgun in the air and see if'n I cain't bring down a plucked turkey for Thanksgivin'."

Billy Roy and Jeff Robert looked at each other and knew what the other was thinking, "how the heck are we gonna shimmy up that tree with a 25 lbs. turky?" But that's a whole other story.

Just Whose Birthday is Christmas?

Each year it seems Christmas is more commercialized, merchandized, and people are greedier. It’s to the point where I’m afraid we’ve almost lost what the holiday was originally about and how it ought to be celebrated. Presently, this is weighing more heavily upon my mind than in previous years because of some incidents that I’ve been unfortunate to observe.

The first disgusting incident, and it ought to disgust everybody, is this year, at least where I live, retailers put out their Christmas paraphernalia before Halloween. I don’t know, call me old fashion, but it seems to me there should be a law against decorations that are chronologically out of sync.I guess the theory behind this atrocity is that since Christmas is a big spending holiday the longer you can stretch the season the more money you’ll make. It’s nothing but pure greed and that’s just wrong!

Another example of greed and the over merchandising of Christmas was what one of the nation’s largest retailers did concerning “Black Friday.” As a lot of people know, this is traditionally the Friday after Thanksgiving when more people go Christmas shopping than on any other day of the year. It’s become the traditional kick off of the Christmas season. For some retailers this day puts their sales for the whole year in the black, meaning they made a profit. If they have a bad Black Friday their sales for the year will be in the red, signifying they lost money that year.Needless to say, this one day of the year can make or break some businesses.

So, retailers go all out with special sales,financing, all kinds of gimmicks to get the consumer to purchase their products.Well, the retail chain of which I speak decided to get the jump on their competitors and announced they were going to have their Black Friday a week before the traditional one, hoping to out sell their retail rivals. Again, it totally smacks of pure greed!

And speaking of Black Friday, it was during this year’s that I witnessed one of the most despicable things of all.It was announced in the media that a small number of the new generation of X-Box was going to be for sale on Black Friday only at certain retailers across the country. People literally camped out in the parking lots of these retailers for days, even weeks, hoping they’d be one of the select few to get their hands on an X-Box for their kids or just for themselves.

Well, after camping out for a week or more on sidewalks and parking lots people got a little cranky, and you can imagine the chaos that ensued when others tried to cut in line. There were several incidents that required the police to get the crowds under control. Arrests were made, people were hauled off to jail, and there was at least one occurrence of people being trampled by the hoards pushing to get into the stores when their doors opened.

After Black Friday, stories began circulating that because of the one X-Box purchase per customer limit, people paid others to wait in line with them to buy this product for them, enabling the payer to get his hands on more than one. If successful, the payer put his extra X-Boxes on ebay and the bidding wars began. One rumor had an X-Box selling for over $10,000.00.

I relate these incidents to you to preface the lyrics of a song, written by Harold Reid of the Statler Brothers, which sums up quite nicely all of this ridiculous greed and over merchandising. It also helps me to keep Christmas in perspective. I hope it will do the same for you.

Whose Birthday Is Christmas?

By Harold Reid

One December Sunday morning after church

I was walking to my car and I heard a little boy say

Oh daddy just whose birthday is Christmas?

The Bible says that Jesus was born

Oh daddy please explain,

I had to ask because

You hear so much about Santa Clause

Silver bells and cedar smells don’t tell the story

Of the virgin and the manger where He lay

Festive drinks and glasses clinks won’t make Jesus

Proud to say that this is His birthday

Oh daddy just whose birthday is Christmas?

The Bible says that Jesus was born

Oh daddy please explain

I had to ask because

You hear so much about Santa Clause

In Sunday school we read the Christmas story

Saint Nick will come next week so we are told

It’s hard to understand in a big people’s land

Especially if you’re six years old

Oh daddy just whose birthday is Christmas?

The Bible says that Jesus was born

Oh daddy please explain,

I had to ask because

You hear so much about Santa Clause

It’s hard to understand in a big people’s land

Especially if you’re six years old

Dear Valentine

Your sweet, gentle love has touched me in a way that words cannot fully express. But on this special day, I will try to find a way to at least give you a small inkling of what you mean to me.

I wish you knew how the sunshine of your smile warms my heart and lightens life’s burdens, how your loving touch strengthens my weary soul and assures me that I’m not alone in a world that can sometimes be cold and unfriendly.

It is said that the eyes are windows to the soul. I know this to be true, for when I look into your eyes I see a gentle, loving heart that loves me not only for the man I am but also for the man you trust I will become.

You have always seen the diamond in the rough, found the good, forgave the bad, and with your warm, sweet, gentle love, you have helped me find my better self. I strive harder to be that better person for he is what you deserve and I never want to disappoint you.

It is your belief in me, it is because I matter to you, that I am inspired each day to reach higher, strive harder, and do better than I did the preceding day. Whatever fame, fortune, or notoriety I might gain in this life I owe to you, for your love unfeigned, and I will sing your praises all of my life for it.

Yet, if leave this earth a pauper I will die a wealthier man than all of the kings who have ever lived, for I will depart this life knowing you loved me none the less. Indeed, yours is the love that from the beginning of time men have prayed for, fought for, even died for. Why the Gods have looked favorably down upon this mere mortal and blessed him with the affection and devotion of a woman like you, I will never know,but often, I find myself wondering that if there was a previous life—and I believe there was--what I ever did there to earn the blessing of your love, but I am eternally thankful for it, as my prayers to God attest each night.

This journey we call life hasn’t always been kind. Pitfalls have snared me, cruelties have befallen me, and many bumps and bruises have I obtained as the years unfolded. But amour, if all these experiences have helped mold me into a person that you could love I’d gladly travel that same road, climb out of each pitfall, endure each bump and bruise a hundred times over, and I’d do it with a smile, because every precarious step, every painstaking mile brought me to you.

Who knows what might lie ahead? But hand in hand we will boldly face whatever the fates have in store. Armed with our love we will firmly stand against the storms of life, bending but never breaking. When the road gets icy, as surely it will, if you should lose your footing I will be your soft place to fall. When the road ahead is difficult to see, I will be your eyes. If you should get weary and feel you can’t go on, I will carry you. When the waters are deep and swift you can hang on to me and together we will swim to safety.

And when our time on earth is over, no doubt, our love will carry us through the eternities hand in hand, smiling, laughing, and loving.Simply put, my love, whomever and where ever you may be, when fate chooses to bring us together that’s when my life will truly begin.

Eternally Yours

Pyromania

Once again, the 4th of July is coming upon us. Some of us are rubbing our sweaty palms together and salivating just thinking of the up coming holiday festivities. Yes, this is the one time of year in which the little pyromaniac in all of us is allowed to come out.

What is it about fireworks that turns a seemingly nice young man into a stark raving maniac? First off, take any law abiding fellow--I'm talking about a guy who wouldn't break the speed limit getting himself to the hospital before bleeding to death--and make the suggestion of going for a ride to buy some fireworks and he's off, navigating the local highways as if he were driving in the Daytona 500.

But it's the lighting of the fireworks that really draws the monster out of a man. One can see the change start to take place about two hours before dusk. A guy will start getting anxious and begin pacing the floor.

He'll start to stammer in his speech and his hands will sweat profusely. Next, he'll hear voices coming from the bag of fireworks hidden in the closet, voices beckoning him to take them outside and light them.

As night descends upon the city and the time for lighting fireworks draws nigh, one of the last stages of the 4th of July mania takes place. A guy's eyes will glaze over, his mouth and eye sockets go dry, and any last trace of sanity takes a temporary leave of absence--and this is all before he goes berserk.

Once the first of the fireworks are lighted, an otherwise perfectly sane man will push all common sense to the ozone of his mind. He'll tear the bag of fireworks from the hands of any person holding it. He'll pull out a handful of sparklers, light them, and then run around in a dry, grassy field like some half-crazed sparkler nymph. All the while, someone's running behind him with a hose or bucket of water dousing all the brush fires he's started. If a firecracker doesn't go off after it's been lighted, the 4th of July nut will rush over and pick it up to relight it...just in time to have the thing blow up in his hand.

The people you really got to feel sorry for, though, during this great holiday celebration are all the little kids. At times, one may hear others discussing the subject of what's wrong with today's youth? They seem so confused. The blame, in part, lies with the 4th of July holiday itself.

All year long, kids are told not to play with fire. Every opportunity a parent has to drill the point home, they do. If a news story comes on the T.V. about a house fire caused by some youngster playing with matches, parents across the nation will lecture their children for an hour saying things like, "You see, that's why you don't fool with matches."

But, on the evening of the 4th of July what do we adults do? We encourage our children to light matches and ignite sparklers which set off sparks and flames in every direction. Then we encourage them to run around and wave the thing overhead to make designs in the air.

If our kids shy away from doing this, what do we tell them? "Oh come on. Don't be such a wimp!"But when the celebration is over, adults return to, "I thought I told you kids not to play with matches!" And we wonder why children seem confused?

So as this 4th of July approaches. . .waaaait, ssssomththing is hhhappenin' ttttto mmmme. IIIIII hhhhhear vvvvoices fffffrom the clclcloset, mmmmmy speach iiiiiiiis fffffunnnny, IIIII'm drrrrrr-ooling, and mmmmy hands are ggge-tting damp!