But Dad, When George Told the Truth

I got a little lazy today. This posting is the text of a newspaper column I write for the local newspaper.

Monday is President’s day. Folks who work in special places such as banks and government offices have the day off. Others of us have to go about our daily grind. But the remembrance of Presidents is a good thing. Of course, Abraham Lincoln was not the country bumpkin we been led to believe. And George Washington never threw a silver dollar across the Potomac River. (Silver dollars didn’t exist then.)

Nevertheless, every child has the myths as well as the facts of great Presidents deep-rooted into their education. Sometimes this is to their benefit. Sometimes, it is not.

The story is told of two brothers from generations ago trying to find things to entertain themselves during the summer break.

The boys tried baseball in the field beside the farmhouse for a while, but it’s hard to imitate a real baseball game with two teams of one. Soon, they grew bored and returned the gloves, balls and bat to the storage place.

Next, they attempted to develop their skills as circus performers. The first circus skill was a close equivalent of the high wire walkers. This consisted of walking the top of the fence around the pasture. They continually fell off at first. Yet, at the end of a week of constant practice they could with a little concentration walk completely around the large pasture. A magnificent accomplishment it was. But even magnificence grows lackluster with constant repetition.

Still, they concentrated on developing circus abilities. A circus is filled with wild animals. The farm was filled with animals. None were wild. It was a challenge. But there was a bull! The boys made their way into the pasture where the bull grazed. And as luck would have it the bull took notice. It wasn’t the taunting of the bull that got the brothers banned from their circus activities. It was the large hole in the fence which the bull made in his pursuit of the adventurers and the subsequent needed roundup.

The baseball fervor had grown dull. The circus, other than the high fence walking, was off limits. What could a young teen do?

Ahh! Girls. The next morning they rode their bikes across the village toward Katie Smathers house. Katie was attractive; Katie was always friendly; Katie would be a good distraction in the middle of a long summer. But, alas, Katie was out of town.

Bored, the next day they took to hiking in the woods. That too soon became boring. Until ….
They came across an outhouse sitting on the edge of the top of a ridge. One brother looked at the other. Each smiled. Without saying a word to each other they charged the outhouse. Like linebackers wrecking havoc on a slow quarterback they hit the side of the structure. It tipped over and cascaded end over open bottom down the hill. They laughed and laughed as they skipped their way back home.

That night, at dinner, their dad asked if they knew anything about the outhouse being pushed down the hill. The older brother, remembering his history lessons, exclaimed. “Father we cannot tell a lie. It was us.”

Immediately, the father marched them out to the wood shed and promptly laid waste to their bottoms. The younger brother whimpered, “But, Daddy, when George Washington told the truth about the cherry tree his daddy didn’t whip him.”

“That may be,” said the dad. “But George Washington’s father wasn’t in that cherry tree.”