Migrants in the Ditch

     It's that time of year again.  As I drive the roads around my upper midwest home, I see that the tiger lilies, dames rocket, Queen Anne's lace, chicory, and sow weed are all in bloom.  It's lovely.   The only one of these that is considered a native plant is sow weed.  The others are all immigrants, though many of us who consider ourselves natives call them weeds. (Forget that most of our forbearers haven't been here as long as the Queen Annes lace, which was brought here by the early colonist.)  Like most wild plants, these are where they are because they fill a niche; they can grow in ground compressed by the heavy machinery that set the road grade. So when anyone tries to tell you how our country is being overrun by immigrants please point out that they are just filling in a niche where few of  us could survive.  Or maybe you'd like to wash the windows at McDonald's for minimum wage while you learn enough English to stand in front of  the grill all day for a few cents an hour more.      

Suggestion for Viewing Blogs

The posts in bio tales work best if viewed in order from the first posted to the last.  Bring up all the posts and then read them from the oldest to the newest.  Unless you've already read them- or don't want to!   

On Becoming a Champion of Outsiders

     In my sophomore year in high school I switch to a different  role model, one which I have been following on and off ever since.  Chronological this story  comes after the one about my being a bully.

     Everyone knew and admired Gary Spaulding*.  He could go into a handstand and walk the last three blocks to school on his hands.  He could do gymnastic stuff I wasn't to see again until I watched the Olympic games years later when television came along.  Gary was a natural for cheerleader, but  not everyone thought so.  The   girls on the cheerleading squad went to the school principal and asked that Gary be dismissed, even though our PE Teacher, Vito Maserati#, had judged the tryouts and accepted Gary.  Mr Maserati,  a GI Bill graduate had gotten a fair deal himself in life and wanted Gary to have the job for which he was so undeniable equipped.  So, the cheerleaders appealed to the principal, Mr Miller++, who looked like Glen Miller.   No fool he, Mr. Miller ducked the bullet by asking the student council to arbitrate.  My classmates had elected me as a senior representative to the council.  I'd been a shoo-in because I was one of two candidates for two openings.  The other representative and I were not athletes or cheerleaders.  The faculty advisor was Mr. Maserati.  As president of the council, I asked for a motion to allow Gary to be on cheerleading squad.  It was so moved and the motion carried five to four.
     At half time at the next game, at the finale of the cheerleaders' presentation, Gary did hand flips up the center of the gym ending with an unassisted flip which he nailed.  We won the game by a two point as the buzzer sounded. The cheering that greeted this feat were not much louder than those given Gary's half time performance. The cheerleading squad were co-champions that year
     
*Not his real name
 #Also not his real name
++You guessed it---not his real name

  

Truly True Stories- Mostly

The other stories on this blog are fiction, stories that are truer than true.   These stories will also show me as the hero of my own life, but will also modestly confess to certain minor weaknesses.  Mark Twain said that the way to turn an honest man into a liar is to ask him to write an autobiography.  I don't know that I was an honest man to begin with, but hey, I'm telling the stories.

My Career as a Bully

     By the age of ten I had attained the height and weight I had when I graduated from high school, 5' 10'' and a chubby 175  pounds.  I discovered at that age that I was able to hold down my little chums until they hollered uncle.  Much like many leaders and armies throughout history, I found superior force a great way to have my way.  Fortunately for my future as a kind hearted champion of the downtrodden, my chums grew larger, stronger and swifter.  I remained fat and uncoordinated, and my bullying continued.  My reign of terror ended my freshman year.  I tried out for baseball and made the team.  Actually, the high school was so small that everyone who tried out made the team.  By the end of my first year as second string left fielder, playing only if  if the other starting outfielders were needed elsewhere, I quit to pursue academic success.  Things went better, and I was often third in the courses offered college bound students- those who weren't in Ag or Home Ec. 

      One day in the lunch line I attempted to regain my fame by pushing a freshman who was smaller than me and not on any athletic team because he had to catch the bus back to the farm to do his chores.  I had been taunting him for sometime hoping to start a fight and regain my fame.  My intended victim was evidently tired of badgering tha day, and he turned around and slugged me.  I discovered then that a blow to the head does cause one to see stars.  I cried like the sissy that I was and resolved to try some other role model in the future.