%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |  It's all her fault. |
|
Welcome to my blog.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Every day at school or after, Elwood and I would get together to make our perfect plan. Yessirreebob, those fellows on Mission Impossible should have hired us. Finally the great day arrived, Saturday. We had told our parents that we were going fishing, so we were going to leave around 6:00 a.m. (We didn’t tell them we might be the bait.) I was up by a quarter til five getting ready, even took my fishing rod so they wouldn’t be suspicious. At six a.m., here comes Elwood up the street, carrying his fishing rod too, and smiling so bright you thought the sun was up in full. We headed for the bridge, carrying those rods like men going to war. It stood in front of us, that big beautiful bridge, close to 800 yards long, cold steel and concrete, just waiting to reveal its mysteries. As we went across, we waved at the toll booth operator (you always waved so they wouldn’t think nothing). We must have been walking faster than I thought for we were on the Kentucky side before I knew it. Elwood had casually glanced to see if my mark was still there and it was. We went under the bridge to hide our fishing rods in a good place, then came back and casually strolled to where the mark was. We acted as if we were just looking around at the river. The railing was about four feet tall, the pipe on top was about six inches in diameter. Underneath the top pipe was kind of like chain link fencing only thicker. We knew when we went over the pipe, we’d have to make sure we grabbed hold of the fencing to climb down under the bridge. We were so psyched. But every time we started to go over that dang pipe, a car would show up, either from the Ohio side or from the Kentucky side. (Where were these dang people going, fishing or something?) This wasn’t working like we’d planned it, so we walked toward the Kentucky side, trying to think of a different plan. We sat down on the embankment and stared out at our tunnel, so close and yet so far away. Elwood got up and walked the bank, going further under the bridge. I asked him where he was going and he said, “To see something.” This could have meant anything, including taking a leak, so I just kept sitting there. I saw something out of the corner of my eye and looked up. There was Elwood, above me, swinging from girder to girder until he got on top of a bigger one. I chuckled as he turned around and came back. He hollered down at me to come up there and check it out, so I did. “Well, what do you think?” he asked me. “About what?” “About swinging from girder to girder and stopping on the bigger ones to rest our arms.” The bigger girders were only about twenty feet apart, so I tried it out. It was easy. When I came back I was laughing. It was another stroke of genius. So we started swinging. As we were swinging, we were also climbing. Soon we were high above the embankment – then even higher above the water. We were both in pretty good shape at the time and being brainless meant less weight to carry too. We did it. We made it to the first tunnel, and climbed in through the viewing hole. It wasn’t until we were right near it that we realized those viewing holes were about 2 ½ feet square, plenty big enough for us to climb through. We were kings. Those fellows who climbed Mt. Everest were wimps! We started looking around to see what treasure we’d found and there... was nothing but empty space, just like between our ears. But we still felt good because We. Made. It! We sat there, in our glory, looking out the viewing holes at the city, at the shore, and even at the churning water down below. Then it came to us... of COURSE they wouldn’t put anything of value in the first tunnel, they’d put the good stuff in the middle tunnel! It was harder to get to and was at least 80 feet above the water, a long drop before a body would smack the surface. Since we’d made it to the first one, we were confident we could make it to the middle one just as easily. |
| Yep, if I wasn’t with Elwood, that’s where you could find me: at the library. I always loved to read mysteries and ghost stories, and especially “how to” stuff. That’s right, I’m a dang book worm and proud of it. I still to this day don’t watch much TV. I prefer to read or work with my hands. Once inside the library, I asked the librarian, Mrs. Kennedy (who knew me well), if there was anything about the Ironton Russell Bridge, how it was built and so on. She found two large books for me and let me check them out even though she wasn’t supposed to. See there, bookworms have their privileges. I carried those books home as if they were made of gold. What had dawned on me was the bridge’s design. Unlike most bridges I’d read about or seen pictures of, it had a sharp turn at the end when you come from Kentucky into Ohio. Where most bridges spanned from one bank to the other in a somewhat straight line, or have a gradual curve, this bridge just suddenly and sharply turned right. I wanted to know why. In the first book, I read that the main local resources were iron ore, coal, and steel, and the railroad was there first. If they would have made the bridge straight, it would have come down right in the middle of the train station. Even if they would have curved it, they were afraid that if a train derailed, it would knock out the supports of the bridge. The only other alternative would have been to build it down further, which would have meant the city wouldn’t be able to collect the revenue from tolls. So they redesigned the bridge with that big old turn in it. The second book was filled with details about the bridge design, including blueprints. It was in those blueprints that I spotted something – well, actually three somethings, that I couldn’t hardly wait to share with Elwood. I was so excited, I couldn’t hardly sleep that night. The next day I met up with Elwood to walk to school. I didn’t bring the books in fear something might happen to them. All I told him was I had something he just had to see after school. As soon as the bell rang, we met up, and off to my house we went so I could show him my find. When we reached my house, I scurried off and emerged back out with the two prized books and was greeted with a frown and a raised eyebrow. Elwood wasn’t into books like me. He got good grades but could have done better if he wanted to, it was just the part of about him wanting to that was the problem. As I opened the book, he became as fascinated as I was about the blueprints, but finally asked, “So what’s the big deal you wanted to show me?” When I showed him, he got a twinkle in his eye and an all too familiar smirk on his face. There they were, right in front of him, printed in black and white, three of them. One at each end of the bridge, about 200 yards from each shore and the other one right smack dab in the middle of the bridge, at least 80 feet above the water. There was our next challenge, our newest adventure. Unknown to the general public, our bridge had three workman tunnels beneath it. Each tunnel had square holes on both sides called viewing holes so the workmen could inspect the tops of the pylons, the underside of the bridge, and the wiring of the lights on either side. That was it, we had to know what was in those tunnels, like lost treasure in a cave. But the next question was how. So back inside I went to get my telescope to better see our next appointed challenge. The telescope was Elwood’s idea since he watched the Man from U.N.C.L.E. and had a stupid pen with invisible ink that fired a cap. It wasn’t worth the two dollars then but I wish I had it now, it’d probably be worth a fortune. We went down to the bridge and realized we had to go over to the Kentucky side to get a look because that big flood wall was in our way. So up the ramp we go, pausing for a moment to check out the repairs that had been made. Wow, if it wasn’t for the nick in the walkway, you wouldn’t have even known anything happened, they even painted that section there (had to touch it to see if it was still wet, too). We walked across, waved at the toll booth operator, trying to look inconspicuous, and finally got to the other side. We went down the embankment a ways and there it was, not quite as far as we thought, but far enough. We took turns peering through the scope to see if we could see inside the viewing holes. Didn’t see anything special, but we still had to know. We looked up at the side of the bridge to find a landmark so we would know right where the tunnel was situated below the bridge, but everything looked the same and no way were we going to count that many rivets in the girders. Elwood had a stroke of genius. He told me to go up on the bridge while he watched, and he would signal me when I was right above the tunnel, and I could mark the spot. I walked for a ways and he kept waving me further. I kept moving and finally he gave me the thumbs up. I marked the spot by scratching a line in the walkway with a rock. We didn’t realize how much time had passed, but it was getting late and we needed to get home. We knew we’d have to wait until the weekend. It seemed such a simple solution. We knew where the tunnel was. All we’d need to do was go over the side of the bridge, climb underneath, and swing from girder to girder like monkey bars until we could climb inside that tunnel. It didn’t quite work out that way. |
| Just when you thought you heard it all (you asked for it!) The Adventures of Elwood & Mike PART 2 yep! Well, we will start this off by going back to the Ohio River for a little more description of our playground. Back in the 30’s, the Ohio River breached its banks, destroying properties, homes, and took with it quite a few lives. So after the waters receded, the town decided they needed a flood wall. And what a beauty it is – at the top of the embankment stands this Great Wall of Ohio, seven feet into the ground, eighteen feet tall, two feet thick, reinforced steel and concrete with one huge flood gate system made of solid steel. The gate stayed open all the time except when they needed to test it and do general maintenance. The wall even had a boat ramp, a picnic area, and bathrooms. Yes sir, they were proud of their wall and didn’t like anyone messing with it, either. One day, Elwood and I were walking on the top of the wall... What?! If they didn’t want us up there on the top, then they shouldn’t have put built-in rungs like a ladder up the side! As I was saying, we were walking on the flood wall toward the Ironton Russell Bridge, when we came upon what everyone called the guard shack. It was a small building, about 25’ x 25’ and inside was a Park Ranger that monitored a ham radio so if there was a problem with the bridge or in the water around the bridge, he could contact the proper authorities and be there as quick as a flash himself. One interesting feature of this building was that there were no windows, except a real small one in the bathroom. I wondered back then, if the Park Ranger was supposed to guard the bridge, how did he see out, duh. The guard shack was situated right below where the bridge made a sharp turn. From up high on that wall, as we approached the building, we noticed people on the bridge and heard the sound of sirens coming. That was when we saw it – someone had remodeled the building. Sticking out of the roof of the guard shack was the backside of a car. It was an older car, sedan type. Wasn’t sure what make because the front was somewhere inside the building. Luckily no one was seriously hurt, but the driver had a broken nose and collar bone and was knocked out. For the people inside the building, the only damage was to their shorts. Elwood and I sat down on the wall to watch the show. We had a great view, police everywhere, fire trucks, even a crane to pull the car out of the guard shack roof. Finally a police officer came over below where we were sitting and Elwood hollered down and asked the officer what had happened. He told us he didn’t know for sure, but he did know that the Kentucky police were chasing the guy who was in the car. Then it must have struck him that we were sitting on top of the city’s beloved wall because he snapped at us, “What are you two doing up there?” Elwood, with his quick wit answered, “Our dad put us up here, he’s a volunteer, he’s over there somewhere.” The officer said, “Okay, but be careful not to fall off,” and went back to join the commotion. Now I know the officer had a lot on his mind, but how tall would our dad have to be to put us up there? We sat there on that wall and watched until it was over. They pulled the car out of the roof and barricaded the part of the bridge where the car had missed that sharp turn, crashed through the guardrail, and sailed right into the top of the guard shack. They even had a guy already up there cutting and rewelding. It was getting kind of late and the fun seemed to be over, so we started heading home, each our separate ways. And then something dawned on me about the bridge itself. Instead of going home, I went to the library. What I found out that day would send Elwood and I on quite an adventure, one more dangerous than most of our adventures. I’ll be back tomorrow to share what I found. |
| First of all, I want to say thanks for all of the kind comments and great ratings! And, sorry if any of you spit coffee or anything else on your computers! Enough said, time for another story. This here one is about another one of my childhood characters. This is one of the Adventures of Elwood and Mike. Yep, Elwood was my best friend. Why, we were the ones who started A.S.S. (American Stupid Society), cause I think back on things we did and I’m surprised to still be alive. We had this thing about proving to people that we had nerves of steel (or brains of mush) with some of the stunts we pulled. First let me describe some of the area we played in for those who have never been there. The Ohio River is called a mighty river because of the undertow. It could pull a man or beast under and they wouldn’t show up for miles, at the locks down Chesapeake way. This was a challenge to us to beat that river. And guess what, we didn’t have a boat. We even got our pictures in the paper for the stunt we pulled that winter. We walked across the Ohio River when it froze over, by using bricks to see if they fell through the ice, throwing them ahead of us so we would know not to go that way if the bricks broke through (real smart, huh). But that was our kinfolk’s fault for telling us that’s how our ancestors used to cross before they had bridges. Of course, they didn’t tell us to go out and do it, and they also didn’t tell us the wind on the open river was so strong it would knock you down and blow you across the ice, either. But we watched Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins and saw fellows in snow and ice to film critters, so we knew what we were doing. We even had ropes tied to each other so when one fell, the other did too. Nope, we had this thing figured out. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to introduce Timmy, our tag-along friend. Timmy would tag along with us most of the time, and watch us do our great feats of daring from a distance. We thought of him being cowardly at the time. Now I know he was just smarter. Plus he could tell our folks if something happened. We didn’t have any of that fancy gear the fellows on Mutual of Omaha did, but neither did our ancestors, either. We used what we could find, our walking sticks were the finest frog gigs you could buy at Goldcamps Hardware. In case you never heard of a frog gig (my wife hadn’t), it’s a four-pronged barbed thing that connects to a long pole and you use it when gigging (stabbing) for frogs or fish. We were ready and we did it. We made two trips across over to Ohio and back to Kentucky. Unbeknownst to us, there was a newspaper reporter down there taking pictures at the time of the rare occasion of the river freezing over, and he caught us on film. We were coming up the bank and there was Timmy and this other fellow. We thought for sure we were in trouble. But the fellow greeted us with a smile instead (he did mention, though, that it was kinda dumb of us to do that). He asked us if we minded if he used us in the paper, and we assured him of course not. Then it dawned on us that our folks would find out. So just in case, I told him my last name was Elwood’s and he used mine (boy, that would confuse them, huh). Of course we looked at Timmy so he knew to keep his mouth shut. He did. We both got rid of that part of the newspaper before our parents caught it. We thought we got away with it until we went to school and the teachers asked us if it was a misprint of our names in the newspaper. As far as I knew, it never made it back to my parents, until later in years when my mother brought it up. I was shocked. She didn’t tell Dad but I guess she knew what was done was done. And she knew that whoopins and being told to stay away from Elwood was just a waste of time. Stay tuned for more Adventures of Elwood and Mike. P.S. Wow, I’m still alive. |
| My wife suggested that I should write something from my past, one of my many stories I’ve told her and others and since I’ve read so much y’all have written, it’s only fair. So here goes nothing. I was born in Ohio but raised in Kentucky, the only one in my family born in Ohio. I had plenty of kinfolk in Kentucky, but one particular family comes to mind. First let me give you a little description. These were distant relatives of mine in which we would visit on occasions. We didn’t call ahead for they had no phone, they didn’t even have electricity. Their indoor plumbing consisted of a well pump in a sink in the kitchen. Their bathroom – well, there were these bench-looking things in the bedrooms that when you lifted the seat, there was a pot underneath, and there was a thunder mug under each bed, just in case. Down a trail aways was the outhouse. But for the house, it was beautifully hand-made, not some shack like you might have seen on TV. Their heat consisted of a wood burning stove in the kitchen, a potbelly stove in the parlor, and a fireplace in the front room. The occupants of the house consisted of Mr. & Mrs. Barber and their son, Cledus. Mr. Barber was an average man, around 5’10” who wore bib overalls when he was working and his dress clothes when they went out consisted of black pants and a white shirt. His wife was about 5’5”. She always wore a dress below the knees with an apron. As for Cledus, he stood around 6’5” and weighed well over 200. Cledus was born with some degree of mental retardation. Some people would say he was touched, others called him “retard,” but to me, he was Cledus, a man who thought like a child. His parents tried to send him to school but back then they didn’t take time with people with disabilities and other kids just picked on him. So they took him out of school and did their best to teach him themselves. They were also afraid that someone might get him cornered and he might hurt someone by mistake. His dad referred to him as “strong as a gentleman cow.” I witnessed some of his strength for myself. One time, a couple of hay bales fell from the back of the wagon the tractor was pulling and Cledus just walked over, picked up one in each hand by the straps, and carried them over to the barn like they were nothing. Each bale of hay weighed about 150 pounds. He had two hobbies, one was he liked comic books in which he would show them to me. He could read, not some of the big words, but could still tell you everything that was going on in them. The other was he liked to make things out of metal: weather vanes, horse shoes, bands for buckets or barrels to name a few. His dad was the one who showed him how to be a blacksmith and Cledus was good at it. Well, this one time we went for a visit and as usual, Cledus showed me his latest comic books of Spiderman and Superman, then we headed out of the house towards the barn for him to show me his metal creations. And like usual, with his long legs, he was already down by the oak tree in front of the house before I could even get off the porch. I paused for a moment because I saw Cledus going around and around the oak tree like he was trying to catch something. So I just stood there and watched. Finally I realized he was trying to catch a little bird that must have fallen from a nest. Cledus finally caught the little bird and with his big hands you could barely see it as he cupped it so carefully. He was talking to it the whole time. Then, to my amazement, this big man reached up into the tree and grabbed a branch that was about two inches in diameter, and pulled the branch down at least a foot, like it was nothing. He carefully placed the little bird on the branch. It never occurred to me that he would just let loose of that branch, but that’s what he did. Needless to say, if that bird couldn’t fly, it did whether it wanted to or not! I was dying laughing, my eyes were watering, I couldn’t hardly even breathe. To make matters worse, Cledus was walking back and forth under the tree, looking up and saying, “Where ya go?” over and over again. I figured the little bird was about seven trees over that way somewhere. Cledus didn’t mean no harm, but I still can’t help but laugh every time I think about it. Hope you see the humor in it, too. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
!