© Jayson Slade 2010
Many times I'd go meander off to grab the garden hose. Of course, it was primarily my job to keep that garden hose rolled up next to the faucet that came out of the side of the house. And because it was my job, chances are it was always strung out across the driveway or out in the yard like it was on this June day. I guess this wasn't so much a big deal to my dad since I didn't really get in much trouble whenever he found out about it.
Limb patrol was the 1979 version of being on restriction even though you weren't actually being punished. It was extremely boring. Miniature cassette players with headphones had not been invented yet. There was nothing to keep me occupied except the daunting task at hand. And it never happened on a breezy day. Windy days caused the problem. So why couldn't a breezy one take most of it away? Life is tough enough to make any sense when you're a kid. Not to mention the fact that It was hotter than hot. The sun burned fast and I moved slow. Any excuse to get side tracked was only one good idea away.
The best excuse, although legitimate, was thirst. Les than an hour into the day, the temperature felt like 127 degrees in the shade. Beads of sweat would be dripping without hesitation from my brow. It would roll down to my nose and that salty burn would almost always get in my eyes. I'd rub them and it would just get worse, like putting lemon juice on a paper cut, it burned. I could hear my dad as he'd always say, "You should wear a hat like me." But my dad was known for headware that looked like a cross between what Audrey Hepburn wore on The African Queen and what a Vietnamese guy would wear harvesting a rice paddy. I thought I'd deal with my eyes instead.
(to be continued)
(to be continued)
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