Remembering time gone by in this month's column.
there were tests for ADHD when I was a child, they probably would have said
that I had it. ADHD is a problem with inattentiveness, hyperactivity,
impulsivity or a combination thereof. Yep, that’s me! When I was a youngster, I
was very active and impulsive, but curious.
However, attentiveness wasn’t a problem; my dad kept that in check with a razor
strap. If my memory is correct, he only used it twice – and it wasn’t for
sharpening his safety razor; it was for getting my attention. If parents were
allowed to use more discipline today, there wouldn’t be so many out-of-control
children. Dad never abused me in any way, however; when he gave me an
instruction, I knew I better follow it to the letter. The same went for mom.
She would just say, “Your dad will take care of it when he gets home.” Enough
said! I always respected my elders.
Inquisitiveness was another matter. Anything that I didn’t understand, I wanted
to know how it worked and why. I was into everything. If it could come apart, I
took it apart. I usually could put it back together, though, and it would
When I was about 3 years old, my dad and a friend of his were working on the
faucets in the bathroom. I was trying to watch, and, of course, was in the way.
I climbed into the wicker clothes hamper and watched them work. After a while,
I became sleepy, and just settled down in the hamper, and went to sleep; the
lid closed on top of me. When dad finished working on the lavatory, not knowing
that I was asleep in the hamper, he just left.
Sometime later dad realized that it was quiet, so he started looking for me.
Not finding me, he and mom were getting worried. They looked in the closets and
everywhere they could think of that I might hide. They called the friend to see
if I had gone home with him. He then came back to help look for me. They were
looking and calling, with no luck finding me. We lived on a farm, so they knew
I hadn’t gone far. Back then, all telephones were on a party line, meaning,
when the phone rang, what one person heard, anyone who picked up a phone heard.
Soon, the neighbors were over to our home, looking for me. When I was rested,
and woke up from my cozy hamper, I was wondering what all the excitement was
about. Everyone was quite relieved to find that I was OK. Needless to say, I
didn’t go to sleep in the hamper ever again.
When I sleep, I sleep hard. I only wake up when I am rested or if someone
shakes me. I can sleep almost anywhere, anytime. I was one of the few people in
the army who could sleep standing up. Fortunately, however, I can’t get into a
clothes hamper anymore.
I grew up among adults, doing adult things, so I didn’t have a real childhood.
I was raised around oilfield roughnecks who drank, fought and cussed, and their
nature was to fight, tearing up clubs and bars. Child experts say that children
grow up like their environments. I don’t agree. My parents had no bad habits,
and I grew up not seeing the necessity of fighting, drinking and cussing.
Don’t get me wrong – these vices aren’t against my religion; it is just my
choice. Besides, Bess probably wouldn’t let me back in the house.
Porky's Hole Thoughts: The Clothes Hamper
December 1, 2009