Taking A Fit?
I do not know this story real well, other than when my brother was little he developed this habit that if he didn't get his way or something made him up set, he would start to cry, hold his breath, turn red and then send himself into a convulsion. This caused him to fall to the ground, trembling and shaking and trying to get his breath back. This would scare our mother, and being a young mom at the time, she didn't know how to stop this ordeal from happening and was scared he was going to kill himself.
Well, this one day, they were all outside in front of the house doing something in the yard. It was during that time something happened to Chuck and he got angry at the world and went into one of his fitful rages, started to shake and proceeded to fall down on the ground in a convulsive state.
Mom, ran towards him, I am sure wondering what to do this time, that might help her son get over this habit he had worked himself into. As she ran towards him, she saw the rain barrel full of water, just on the other side of him. So she bends down, grabs him by the heels, runs to the barrel and dunks him head first into the barrel of water, and then just as quickly pulls him out again.
Well, guess what? When he came back out of the water, he had his breath back, you might say he was cooled off, but not only was he cooled off, he was also curred, because I understood that he never again through himself into a convulsive state, for the rest of his life.
Now, I do not recommend this treatment for all convulsive babies, but in an emergency, this one time it worked. The moral of the story, if nothing works, use whatever you have on hand to solve a problem that is worth fixing.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Are You A Grouch
The Grumpy Old Man.
Another threshing story for you. This story is told by my dad, about my dad and his days traveling around with the threshing crews from place to place each fall. It takes all kinds of men to make up a threshing crew. Some of them are patient and kind and there are those who try the patience of the rest of the crew. Some good and some bad. Those who can hold their temper and those who would lose it easily. There was good natured men and there was ornery men. This story is about a good natured man and an ornery man.
My dad was young at the time, good natured, but not yet to the place where he had very much patience. Also at that time in his life, he did not have the Holy Spirit there to help him. I can truly vouch for him that he later made that decision and he did receive more patience. I will tell the story as he was at that time.
This takes place when dad was in his late teens, early 20's. He was working on a threshing crew including other members of his family. Also, a number of their neighbors were working with them. This thrashing crew would travel from farm to farm, threshing each other sheaves.
Each crew had a threshing boss, he was the guy that owned the machine or had been hired by the owner to run the machine. Then there was the field boss, he looked after the loading of the sheaves out in the field. Then there was all of the hired hands, these guys came and worked all day hauling the sheaves from the field to the thresher with their own teams and wagons.
One of these old guys was known as the Old Crank, or ornery as a she-bear with three cubs. He drove his own team, just as my dad was the driver of his own team. This old guy was never happy and was always getting down on the other teamsters, was always up-set and always getting on everyones case. Not on their tractor (case) either.
You see it went something like this, All of the teamsters would head out to the field in the morning to get loaded, and the first one loaded would be first in line to unload. Each teamster was paid according to how many loads they hauled in a day. Each man for himself, they would let the team walk along the rows of sheaves and the teamsters would walk along side with fork in hand and put their load on. When you had on a load you would take your place on top of the load and head for the threshing yard. Most of the time there would be a long line up at the threshing machine. Sometimes as many as 5 or 6 wagons at a time. A lot of times the drivers would fall asleep while waiting, and after the wagon in front pulled out of the way, the next guy in line could be caught sleeping. Well if it so happened that Mr. Ornery was behind you, the sleeper, he would hauler and yell and really get on your case, until you woke up with a start and got going up to the feeder of the threshing machine. He would use cutting remarks like , “Come on you sleepy head, get your lazy butt in gear, come on I don’t have all day, get those old lazy plugs going before the sun goes down. Or do I have to come do it for you." And so he would rant on and on, just grating on your nerves.
Dad was one of the young guys that got railed on lots. Usually he would retaliate with a few choice words and then move up to where he was supposed to be, and get unload as quickly as possible, and then get on out of there as soon as possible again. Then he would just carry on about his day, was the normal response.
One day as dad pulled up with his load he noticed that he was third in line. Just guess who was in second place? Well, it was Mr. Ornery himself. Guess what? He was sleeping, as sound as can be and the guy in front was almost done. Dad sat there for a bit with the sun shining down nice and warm on his back, when all of a sudden he got a very bright idea.
Quietly getting down from his load, he made haste in carrying out his plan. He went around his own team, past Mr. Ornery’s wagon load of sheaves and up to Mr. Ornery’s team. He ducked in behind the team and reached out quickly and with one swift movement he pulled the draw pin from the Whipple Tree and stuck it into the sheaves at the front of the load. Stepped back out and headed back to his own team, he mounted his load and prepared to carry out the rest of his scheme. He just sat and waited, watching very closely, for just the right time.
The lead team was now just finished and was pulling out of the way, and his fun was about to begin. Mr. Ornery’s team never moved. So dad yelled, "Come on, you old grouch, get those lazy old nags into place." The old man awoke with a start, planting his feet against the top of the front rack of his wagon and yelled at the old team, who in turn settled into their tugs. You can only imagine what happened next. No, I guess I will have to tell you.
The old team took off, the pole dropped to the ground, the grumpy old man was not very big and with the weight of the team and with their strength, the grumpy little old man was seen disappearing down behind the front of his own load, being drug about fifty feet before making his feet again and getting his team stopped. Needless to say this grumpy old man was very quiet for a very long time after this. I'm not saying that dad was right in what he did, but he never had to listen to that grumpy old man any more. The grumpy old man never asked and no one ever told who was the guilty party that pulled his draw pin.
If I ever become a grumpy old man, I would hope that someone would try and become my friend, and in so doing, maybe having a chance to take my grumpiness away. Helping me realize that the whole world isn’t out to get me. That I could actually be someone who could be nice, if I really wanted to be. In my dad's later years, I believe that is what he would of tried to do.
Another threshing story for you. This story is told by my dad, about my dad and his days traveling around with the threshing crews from place to place each fall. It takes all kinds of men to make up a threshing crew. Some of them are patient and kind and there are those who try the patience of the rest of the crew. Some good and some bad. Those who can hold their temper and those who would lose it easily. There was good natured men and there was ornery men. This story is about a good natured man and an ornery man.
My dad was young at the time, good natured, but not yet to the place where he had very much patience. Also at that time in his life, he did not have the Holy Spirit there to help him. I can truly vouch for him that he later made that decision and he did receive more patience. I will tell the story as he was at that time.
This takes place when dad was in his late teens, early 20's. He was working on a threshing crew including other members of his family. Also, a number of their neighbors were working with them. This thrashing crew would travel from farm to farm, threshing each other sheaves.
Each crew had a threshing boss, he was the guy that owned the machine or had been hired by the owner to run the machine. Then there was the field boss, he looked after the loading of the sheaves out in the field. Then there was all of the hired hands, these guys came and worked all day hauling the sheaves from the field to the thresher with their own teams and wagons.
One of these old guys was known as the Old Crank, or ornery as a she-bear with three cubs. He drove his own team, just as my dad was the driver of his own team. This old guy was never happy and was always getting down on the other teamsters, was always up-set and always getting on everyones case. Not on their tractor (case) either.
You see it went something like this, All of the teamsters would head out to the field in the morning to get loaded, and the first one loaded would be first in line to unload. Each teamster was paid according to how many loads they hauled in a day. Each man for himself, they would let the team walk along the rows of sheaves and the teamsters would walk along side with fork in hand and put their load on. When you had on a load you would take your place on top of the load and head for the threshing yard. Most of the time there would be a long line up at the threshing machine. Sometimes as many as 5 or 6 wagons at a time. A lot of times the drivers would fall asleep while waiting, and after the wagon in front pulled out of the way, the next guy in line could be caught sleeping. Well if it so happened that Mr. Ornery was behind you, the sleeper, he would hauler and yell and really get on your case, until you woke up with a start and got going up to the feeder of the threshing machine. He would use cutting remarks like , “Come on you sleepy head, get your lazy butt in gear, come on I don’t have all day, get those old lazy plugs going before the sun goes down. Or do I have to come do it for you." And so he would rant on and on, just grating on your nerves.
Dad was one of the young guys that got railed on lots. Usually he would retaliate with a few choice words and then move up to where he was supposed to be, and get unload as quickly as possible, and then get on out of there as soon as possible again. Then he would just carry on about his day, was the normal response.
One day as dad pulled up with his load he noticed that he was third in line. Just guess who was in second place? Well, it was Mr. Ornery himself. Guess what? He was sleeping, as sound as can be and the guy in front was almost done. Dad sat there for a bit with the sun shining down nice and warm on his back, when all of a sudden he got a very bright idea.
Quietly getting down from his load, he made haste in carrying out his plan. He went around his own team, past Mr. Ornery’s wagon load of sheaves and up to Mr. Ornery’s team. He ducked in behind the team and reached out quickly and with one swift movement he pulled the draw pin from the Whipple Tree and stuck it into the sheaves at the front of the load. Stepped back out and headed back to his own team, he mounted his load and prepared to carry out the rest of his scheme. He just sat and waited, watching very closely, for just the right time.
The lead team was now just finished and was pulling out of the way, and his fun was about to begin. Mr. Ornery’s team never moved. So dad yelled, "Come on, you old grouch, get those lazy old nags into place." The old man awoke with a start, planting his feet against the top of the front rack of his wagon and yelled at the old team, who in turn settled into their tugs. You can only imagine what happened next. No, I guess I will have to tell you.
The old team took off, the pole dropped to the ground, the grumpy old man was not very big and with the weight of the team and with their strength, the grumpy little old man was seen disappearing down behind the front of his own load, being drug about fifty feet before making his feet again and getting his team stopped. Needless to say this grumpy old man was very quiet for a very long time after this. I'm not saying that dad was right in what he did, but he never had to listen to that grumpy old man any more. The grumpy old man never asked and no one ever told who was the guilty party that pulled his draw pin.
If I ever become a grumpy old man, I would hope that someone would try and become my friend, and in so doing, maybe having a chance to take my grumpiness away. Helping me realize that the whole world isn’t out to get me. That I could actually be someone who could be nice, if I really wanted to be. In my dad's later years, I believe that is what he would of tried to do.
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