Tattle Tale

My cousin, Barney and I strolled along the winding pathway leading to Rock Creek. For a March day this was an unusually hot afternoon bursting with springtime new life. We just had to see Rock Creek.

Schools of thin tadpoles which would soon become lively croaking frogs scurried at the edge of the sandy pool at which we arrived. The cool water and soft sand looked so inviting. My feet burned and tingled with heat as if they were recovering from wintertime frostbite. I dared not wade with my shoes on for fear they would shrink as they dried. They were already too tight for comfort! Besides that, I wouldn't get another pair of shoes earlier than next November, after the frosts came, and the last bale of cotton was ginned and sold. The gentle creek bed breeze carried a pleasant perfume. A mixture of wild sweet plum and sour wild grape blossoms yielded an exotic smell of elation.

"Come on, Barney, let's go wading barefooted! Wow! This water is freezing my legs! I exclaimed.

"Okay, Harold, your legs will sting worse than that if you are caught wading in water that turns to thin sheets of ice at night!" he replied.

"Yeah, but it feels so good, especially when the wet sand oozes between my toes. Come on in, Barney! No one will ever know."

"I'm not chicken, Cousin Harold, but suppose I step into quick sand. Who will rescue me?"

"Just take a chance. I've sunk in, but only knee deep. I dare you. Come on in!"

"Okay, but I hope we won't get a licking if our parents find out!"

"Now, isn't this fun? I said. "Oh, oh. Listen! Oh, gosh they are calling us to the house to do our evening chores already! Let's go! But look! My overall legs are soaking wet even above my knees, and ... and I can't get the sand off my legs!"

"Gee, Barney, I forgot, we don't have a buttonhook to button our shoes. I will have to walk barefoot."

"So, let's git!"

Then Barney added, "Harold, I think your little sister has already tattled on us! I saw her running toward the house after we didn't answer their chore-time call!"

"Oh, boy, I didn't think these rocks were so sharp and hard to walk on last summer! Man alive, do my feet hurt now! Last summer my heels were so callused that I could crack pecans on the hard clay!"

"Oh, Cousin Harold, I'm freezing. My teeth won't stop chattering! I need a warm coat and a hot bath! Wow, that cold evening breeze is wicked!"

Oh, oh, there was our reception committee! Two angry mothers, my two brothers, strong and big, and my two little sisters. "Oh, well, let's get it over with!"

"I'm soaking wet and freezing," Barney shouted.

"He slipped into the creek. I tried to pull him out, with my clothes and shoes on," I tried to explain. "What's that? Oh, yes. My shoes are dry, aren't they?"

"And so are Barney's!" they shouted. My brothers and sisters stood there giggling and squirming. Especially the girls...girls always giggle.

Poor Barney. He just froze in his tracks when my siblings were directed to cut an elm limb switch.

"Oh, can't we have a little fun without being punished?" I muttered.

"Fun, yes, but lying, no! That's why you are getting a tanning!"

"You have to catch me first!" I screamed, and I led a merry chase around the yard, darting between lilac bushes and sticky rose thorns. Being smaller and faster than my big brothers, I could scramble through the thickets and vines more easily. Poor innocent Barney just watched and shivered. Finally, my assailants had me cornered at the base of a lilac bush. With flushed faces we were all panting for breath!

All except Barney, who was now shaking like a long-stemmed glass of Jell-O! Our rapidly beating hearts pumped warm blood through our systems. I gave in to the fact that scoldings don't hurt and whippings don't last!

I slept soundly that night, even if I had lied. I dreamed of catching bullhead catfish with my bare hands.

Barney had to be put to bed with cold chills. Aunt Nora sat up all night long keeping hot irons wrapped in paper torn from the Montgomery Ward catalog on her son's feet. The wool blankets kept his restless body warm. Chills and fever persisted. Dr. Rollins was called. Doctor Rollins came every day.

"Double pneumonia," he would say, shaking his head sideways. "Poor prognosis," he uttered. "Keep him warm, rub hot camphorated oil on his chest thrice daily. Camphor fumes will help break up the congestion. Keep the hot antiphlogistine packs applied, and only hot thicknin' milk for food. That's flavorful food and strengthening too."

Slowly the inflammation left my cousin. He recovered fully, but no more puddling in the creek for him!

As for me, my hot blood kept me well! I learned it never pays to lie.

© Copyright 1997 Harold Wm. Wood

This page is maintained by Dr. Wood's son, Harold W. Wood, Jr., of Visalia, California.
My E-mail address is: harold@planetaryexploration.net

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