2GF,
Yet another facet you have provided of your past...
Yes, you should absolutely be proud of your Native American Heritage.
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To add to the story of when I worked at the Kansas Color Press,
During the summer between Graduating High School and going Active Duty,
I'll try to post this with no additional editing.
Ya know, "One shot. One kill."
Classes start soon and this is good practice for "getting it right" the first time because
I feel a possible research project ahead in one of my classes. Or both....
So get a cold glass of your favorite beverage,
and,
Scott will tell ya yet another story....
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I had just graduated High School at the end of May, '77, and turned 18 a week later.
My Mom told me on my Birthday,
"I've carried your a** now for 18 years,
AND 9 months, Hit the bricks, Scott."
Best Birthday gift I ever got.
Made me more self-reliant.
I was ahead of her ploy because while I was a Senior,
I had already Enlisted in the Army as an MP in the "Delayed Entry Program."
I also had gotten the job at the Color Press working 3rd shift in the press-room.
They had four different 4-color presses;
Let's see.....a Meile, a Hansho, a Cottrell, and a ?
Folks that was a while back.....
I already had made arrangements to spend the summer, in the country,
with an older guy that I had been working for.
He was a retired Rural Postal Carrier and bought, sold and auctioned antiques.
I'd worked for him a couple of years in the evenings, weekends and summers.
We'd sometimes hook up his fifth wheel trailer and we'd head East.
(A song? Head East? OK...)
We'd have auctions to attend to buy all the way into Quincy, IL.
A circuitous route, ya know?
Then we'd get back home and repair, refinish and prep for a big auction.
Yes, I can still auction, but it's a bit rusty....
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I told y'all that story to tell this story....
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One morning, after working midnight until 8 AM at the Color Press,
I got home and was dead tired.
I went upstairs to my room to try to sleep.
No more than a half hour later, my dad saw my motorcycle outside
and came in to see me.
Well, my Dad was an alcoholic,
and he came in and started to rouse me in my room.
He had been drinking all night and wanted me to go drinking some more with him.
(another apropos song here...)
I kept trying to tell him that I was tired and needed to sleep.
He shook me one time too many....
I sprang out of bed and flew at him.
We both tumbled to the ground,
wrapped in combat for the first time in my life with my Father.
We rolled around in my room, struggling, and soon we were in the small hallway to the stairs.
Yep.
We rolled down the stairs, locked in grip.
At the bottom of the stairs,
We struggled to the living room,
where I finally gained superior leverage and ended up sitting atop his chest.
Of course, his inebriation played a part.
I didn't want to hurt him....
He was pretty full of fire and I just had to play him.
Like a 12 pound catfish on a 3 pound line....
I made him promise to go lay down on the couch and catch his breath.
He did so and soon fell asleep.
I went back upstairs to my room.
I laid down to sleep but couldn't.
I couldn't sleep and after an hour and a half of thinking about how my
Father's alcoholism not only effects his life but just now effects mine, I got angry.
I have an idea for a lesson to teach.
I went back downstairs where my Father is asleep on the couch.
Snoring LOUDLY!
Now, the guy I'm spending the summer with, he has a daughter who lives at home.
She's a bit older and her room is downstairs.
Neither she nor the guy were home at the time.
I go into the bathroom and as you might can guess,
I found several items used by women called "make-up."
I spent nearly an hour applying eye shadow, mascara,
Blush and who knows what else to my Father as he lay passed out.
I even painted his fingernails bright red.
Then I roused HIM!
I said,
"C'mon, POP! Let's roll! I'm Buying!
He raised up, grabbed his comb, ran it through his hair and said,
"Let's go, young cat. You Drive."
So we get in his car and I drive to a "Big Boy" restaurant that "everybody"
who knows anybody goes to.
I tell him I just want to get a cup of coffee and see who's there.
We walk in and people are staring.....
We are sitting at the counter and he goes to light a cigarette and notices the fingernail polish.
He looks at me with a look that I'll never forget.
I tell him to go the restroom and look in the mirror.
He comes back out, after trying to clean his face and he's as mad as a wet hen.
Talkin' about kicking my a**.
I said,
"Look, you and I both know now that I can take you. Don't embarrass yourself anymore today."
I also told him that he was to never be around me again if he was drunk.
I drove him home, in his car, and hitch-hiked back home, out in the country.
And finally got some sleep.
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Hope all are well.
My Best to All the "Critterz!"
Scott
