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By Willye Faye Hatch
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, when I was young (chuckle), my cousin and I were left to amuse ourselves for what seemed to be endless summer afternoons. In our quest for entertainment, we proceeded to invent a game which almost proved to be my undoing.
My family and I resided with my Granpa Adam Jasper Shows in those days. His house sprawled on several acres of land and was surrounded by spacious grounds host to orchards and gardens. These grounds proved to be just the sort of thing my cousin and I needed in which to dig holes and tunnels for the transport of our "nail" people in the pursuit of their adventures (we imagined nails to be people).
In the beginning, our efforts did not create a hazaard, but as the summer wore on, the yard became increasingly pockmarked. Therefore, eventually Granpa Shows stepped into one of the holes and took a nasty tumble. Though he did not break a bone, it shook him up considerably, and he was bruised, and aggravated.
We were severely scolded and told to cease and desist our activities. We did not, so after Granpa's second fall some days later, he picked himself up, took a pocketknife out, and chased us, threatening to cut off our ears. My cousin, Dub, and I were so terrified that we easily outran him. Granpa, now sufficiently angry to tell my dad about the incidents, did so.
Duly notified that I would get a "whoopin' " that very night, I spent the intervening hours in deep regret and intense trepidation. Had it not been that my older sister, Lucille, intervened on my behalf, pleading that she would take the "whoopin' " in my stead, I would have become an extremely subdued little savage! Family loyalty prevailed, however, and she pled my cause so convincingly that neither she nor I received the "whoopin' ", though my father was a strict disciplinarian. As for me, I learned a very valuable lesson. Never did I dig up Granpa's yard again, a milestone in the art of learning healthy respect for other people other than oneself.