The Grasshopper And The Piss-Ant

The earliest time of my life I can remember is when we lived out in the far east side of Fort Worth, an area of town known as Stop 6. The name of the area came about from the fact that it was stop number 6 on the old Fort Worth to Dallas Interurban train. I don't really remember too much about anything of stop 6 except for the immediate area around our house. There was a service station of some kind next door to the west, and a nursery just east. Across the street was Amanda Street, with a small shopping center on one corner. In that shopping center there was a barber shop, and the only reason I can remember that is because there was a shooting one night where the proprietor was shot in the wrist during a robbery. I also remember the huge twin power plants about 5 miles east of our house, known as the Hanley power station. They were probably ten stories high and had a rather large neon "Reddy Kilowatt" on the side of one of the towers.

The neighborhood was somewhat rough from what I can remember. In fact, every area I grew up in down in Texas was rough to one degree or another. Back in the 70's most of the east side of Fort Worth was predominantly black, or as the folks back then called it, "Colored" When my twin brother and I were 5, we moved from Stop 6 to Poly, just up the road to the west. Living in Poly later on probably defined my personality and character more that anything else.

The house we lived in was an older house, with a full-length front porch and an enclosed back, in the style of a Florida room. My family would spend many days and evenings on that back porch. We had no air conditioning, so the porch was a natural gathering place during the hot Texas summers. I can remember having small get-togethers at the house, with everyone congregating on the back porch . My dad would have a beer and sit out there and made hot sauce, wearing rubber gloves to protect his hands from the heat of the Habenaro peppers he would cut. I can also remember the yard we had. It was rather large, especially in the back, with a field of Johnson grass at the very back which led to the train tracks a few hundred yards away.

My dad was a truck driver, working for Foremost Ice Cream and my mom was what is referred to now as a stay at home mom. Now, being good Texas boys, my brother and I would find nine ways to hell to create havoc around the house. We always knew somehow that whatever hell we raised would be punished by mom in the short term, but paid back ten-fold when daddy got home. As this story unfolds, keep in mind that what we consider child abuse nowadays was normal punishment in the 70's down in Texas. To this day, Texas leads the nation in the carrying out of the death penalty, and I truly believe this is no coincidence. Punishment usually consisted of just being yelled at all the way up to the switch.

The switch is a simple device, designed by God and used by mortals, to instill fear in boys all across the Lonestar state. It was an ingenious invention by the Almighty, consisting of one very green thin branch from a bush or tree, thinner that a pencil and as long as a yardstick. It was very flexible, which in the world of physics is a design that ensures maximum velocity at the point of impact. It whistled as it approached your backside, giving you a nanosecond of warning before the blinding pain let you know that God really does believe in "An eye for and eye...".

As a four year old, you want to show that you can carry adult responsibilities and perform tasks that would prove your worthiness to your parents. I don't remember too much of any responsibilities I may have had at that age, but there was one task that I was very fond of, and that was getting the mail from the mailman at the end of the driveway. I relished performing this task, to the point of being obsessive-compulsive. I would use the position of the midday sun as my clock, and would dutifully go to the driveway and await the postman. Day after day I was the Sentinel of the Driveway. Yes, I will take credit for being the creator of OCD.

One day, in the scorching hot Texas sun, my brother and I was out in the back of the yard finding new ways to wreak havoc on our little corner of Stop 6 when I realized that it was past time, according to my sun-clock, to pick up the mail. Now, mom usually would yell for me to let me know that the mailman was coming up the driveway so I could meet him and get my daily parcels. As I walked to a good vantage point in the back yard where I was able to see the driveway, I froze. The mail truck was already turned around and headed back towards Rosedale. I ran to the front of the house, checked the box only to find it empty, and then went inside. I must have had quite a look on my face, because the first thing out of mom's mouth was, "Honey, I yelled for you but you didn't answer".

What happened next will be embedded in my mind until the day that I die.

As I welled up in tears, I blurted out "You Piss-ant!" This was a favorite expression of my mom's, a derogatory phrase usually used in place of 'You sonofabitch'. As the words left my mouth I realized that I was in some deep shit, another one of my moms favorite expressions. At least I didn't compound my predicament by blurting that out too.

Now, the best way to finish this story is to tell it from my brothers point of view.

According to Jerry, he was by now on the back porch playing when he heard my blunder. He immediately heard the front door fly open as my mom yelled "What the hell did you say?". In a about ten seconds he dutifully observed me running around the back side of the house, with my mom about fifty paces behind me. As I left his field of view, my mom would go by. About another thirty seconds and here I came again. Then mom. Terry, mom, Terry, mom, etc. This went on for about ten laps or so until it was just me, no more mom. Although she was no longer behind me, I kept making laps. For Christ's sake, I was running for my life!

In the grand scheme of life, the old saying is oh so true. Age and wisdom will always overcome youth and treachery. Mom knew she couldn't keep pace with me for long because of her advanced age. She also knew that I had to eat sometime. I eventually broke down and, hoping she had cooled down enough to discuss this issue like an adult, went in the house. Now, remember the way cool invention by God designed to instill fear and blinding pain? Well, I sure do.

Luckily, it wasn't paid back ten-fold at 5:oo