A Funny Story

[Tom]

It seems I have lived most of my life in one swamp or the other and Florida has them in Salt as well as Fresh water.

In 1959 thru 1963 I worked for the St. Lucie County Mosquito Control District, mostly as summer work between school sessions.

One of the major projects was building Impoundments on Hutchinson Island on both the North and South Beaches.

These impoundments were made by digging a ditch, beginning at the high ground  between the  ocean and the Indian River, with the muck piled on the river side of the ditch.  This dike was built west to the river then along the river/swamp bank for 1 mile then back to the high ground again.  Water was allowed to fill this area at high tide through pipes with gates on them that held the water by water pressure when the tide dropped.  The flooding of the impoundment allowed fish to get to all the, otherwise inaccessible holes, and eat the mosquito larvae.  This was a rather ingenious form of Mosquito Control started by Mr. Carlisle and affected by Mr. Fred Harden.

We had two really good and interesting dragline operators, Ed and Tom.  Ed, 6' 4" and wiry,  was once a cowboy till he found this job.  Tom, 5' 7" and 250 lbs,  had been an equipment operator all his life.  The oilers were old, eccentric, fisherman who had retired from that craft and the four made up two expert teams.

But, I digress.

The swamp muck is pitch black and the consistency of pancake batter.  The draglines worked off of mats and seldom came back over the dikes they built because of the instability.  They just charged on through the Black Mangrove swamps, leaving a 40 or 50 foot ditch and a corresponding 40 or 50 foot dike behind them.

One day the Assistant Director,  a young college graduate with the gung-ho attitude of a Navy Ensign and no practical experience, said he was going to inspect the Dragline work.

The operators asked him to call on the radio before he came so that they could come get him.  He didn't.

He had been provided a brand new Jeep 4wd station wagon that he thought was invincible.  He got about 1/8th of a mile run down the hard road, A1A, and hit the freshly dug dike at what must have been at least 60 mph.

The operators had been digging this dike into a second  week and at 300 ft. per day had progressed well beyond hailing distance out through the swamp.  A short part of the dike at the hard road had crusted over a little but beyond that it was like stacked soup.

The Jeep flew down this dike until it's momentum was overcome by the drag on the wheels and then by the drag on the under body until it finally sloshed to a halt more than 300 feet from the hard road.

The Ass. peeled himself off of the steering wheel, escaped to safety through an open window and jumped clear of the truck onto a dike that wouldn't even hold his weight. The open window allowed the stinking black muck to fill the cab.  By the time the dragline operator and oiler could get there, the only thing showing of the truck was the radio antennae.  

They had to walk the dragline back down the dike on mats and dig the truck out.  They then had to hoist it on the dragline cables and walk it to the hard road.  

It took several days.

.

[Tom]

In 1973, my company built a new computer site in a new industrial park.  We were the 4th company there so many of the lots were uncleared.  This included the lots on either side of us.  They were low and covered with pine that had been thinned to about 10 per acre.  That's what we call a "residential cut" because it provides seed trees and open ground to remain classified for agricultural tax relief but  has enough trees to be attractive to developers for homes or business sites.
 
Not much went on in this park because of its newness, no traffic, not much building and few visitors.  That fall the rainy season caused the lots on one side of our building to flood.  There was about a foot and a half of water and all you could see were the trees.  All of the underbrush, most of which had been mowed, was underwater.   We were getting cabin fever and for entertainment would sit at the windows on our breaks and watch the few cars whiz past.
 
Being a bit of a practical joker, I went to my truck and got a couple of surf fishing poles (rods 10-12 feet long).  I kept them in there all the time because many times that's where I went instead of home, surf-fishing.  A couple of my buddies saw me get mine and, in the spirit of the moment, retrieved theirs.
 
We set these poles up on the side of the road, in their stands made of pvc pipe, and cast a weight back into the flooded woods.  Then we went back inside to see what would happen.
 
A car came whizzing by but slowed beside the poles.  Then another later would do the same thing.  We think they were going somewhere to tell their buddies about the scene because the traffic in front of the building increased 100 fold that afternoon.  
 
The funniest thing was that the same cars began to show up time and time again as if they were going to see what it was we were catching.  We sat behind our window, watched and laughed as we began to recognize the people in the cars.  This was more activity this road had seen since we had moved there and we were having a grand old time.
 
Eventually the traffic slowed, it got to be "after" quitting time and we dismounted the poles and went home.
 
During all that day, nobody stopped to ask what we were catching.
 
Ha, it would have be difficult to tell them, "you".

[CHARLIE]

The answer, back then, to their question "whatcha catchin" would be......"Inquisitive people".

Nowadays though....The only reason they would stop would be to steal every one of those rod and reels. I bet they could've done it and been gone before y'all got out of the building to stop'em too. ;D ;D  

[Bibbyman]

Bullseye and the cat call.

You may remember Bullseye from the turkey hunting story I posted a while back.  Well,  Bullseye didn't limit his bonehead stunts to just hunting.  He really did make coming to work on Monday mornings a little bit more interesting.  You could count on him getting into some kind of fix.  I thought of this one the other night and had to chuckle again.  Mary asked me what was so funny.  Here is the story:

Bullseye and wife Birdie lived about 40 miles out from Capitol City where they both worked.  As the State is by far the largest employer in the area,  either you worked for the State or you didn't.  Birdie did and Bullseye didn't but their hours were close enough together so they could ride together to work.  

Birdie's mom also worked for the State and carpooled with three other ladies – one also worked for the state but the other two didn't.  As the major function of the state government is to spend money (don't get me started!),  they tend to give far more paid holidays that any private business would.  As it happened,  a holiday came up and it was Birdie's mom's week to drive.  She didn't have to work but she was obligated to get the other two to work.  Since Bullseye wouldn't have Birdie,  she asked him to give the other two ladies a ride.  

The morning commute went as expected.  And in the evening Bullseye even managed to remember to pick the ladies up.   It should have been easy as when the state is shut down,  the office area of down town is practically empty.  

Anyway,  the heavy set lady got in the back seat of the Mustang and sat in the middle while the other rode "shotgun".  Bullseye made it out of downtown,  out the row of stoplights on the expressway and then onto the open freeway.  No problem.

Then the impulse.  Why?  There is no answer for why.  End of work on Friday and getting out of the traffic and heading home the exuberance must have overcome his normal imbalanced senses.  In one swift movement he extended his right arm out straight with palm turned back,  fingers spread as if cupping a basketball.  Without so much as a "May I?",  he grabbed the lady's left breast and gave a good twist as if taking the lid of'n a large mouth pickle jar.  The action was accompanied with a rousing "RrrrrEeeerrr" of a wildcat call.  

I couldn't guess how many milliseconds it took before his action was met by a reaction – but it couldn't have been many.  The lady's left arm came up to break Bullseye's grip and she flung herself against the passenger side door panel.   Bullseye, now coming to realize the mistake he made,  moved as far to his side as he could.  He stared straight ahead for the remaining 40-minute ride home and she just looked out her side window. :-[  Not that there was silence as the heavyset lady in the back had seen it all and couldn't stop laughing all the way home.   :D :D :D

[Tom]

When I was young, I, like many young men, lacked the presence of a father, but was lucky that I had a "father-figure" in my Granddad.

He was a strikingly handsome man of six feet one inch and weighed in at between 200 and 210 lbs.  There were tales of him in his youth dead lifting other young boys over his head.  He was big, strong, smart and rode the crest in the community and the church.  I couldn't have been luckier to have someone like him for a hero.

He would come get me from school to take me fishing or hunting which made me the envy of other classmates.  This story describes one of those instances.

I was removed from my 4th grade class and strolled, with Granddaddy's hand on my shoulders to a battered old pickup truck parked beneath the oaks trees that bordered the school.  I have no idea what year truck it was but it had teardrop headlights, flat windshield, a box for a bed and spoked wheels.  In the drivers seat was Granddaddy's good friend Mr. Taylor.  He was shorter than Granddaddy but a lot heavier and jolly as the proverbial "elf", ole' St. Nick.

I got in the middle and Granddaddy rode "shotgun" and off we went to Lake Okeechobee.  We were going Meat fishing.

Not a lot of people had boats then and those who did kept them at home next to the water because trailers weren't popular.  We got to Okeechobee City, went south on 441 to the lake and then around the east to a fish camp that Mr. Taylor and Granddaddy liked.    Boats were all made from boards or plywood, were flat bottomed, and came in lengths of 14 to 21 feet.  

They rented their favorite an 18 ft. flat bottomed boat and a kicker, probably about 6 horse, purchased some bait and off we went.  Our destination was a deep canal cut in the lake by the Corps of Engineers, called appropriately "Government Cut",   that had banks of hyacinths growing on either side.  The hyacinths on the shore side were a thick mat for 30 or 40 yards and then the water got shallower and they were interspersed in  tall grass for another 50 to 100 yards where they met the shore.  The other side of the canal was the side that was on the open lake and the hyacinths grew as thick for 30 or 40 yards and then there was open water as far as the eye could see with interspersed "islands" of tall grass.  Lake Okeechobee is the largest fresh water lake in the nation totally inclosed in the boundry of a single state.

Mr. Taylor ran the boat into the hyacinths so that the plants would hold us and keep us stationary in the wind.  It was almost like being anchored.  Granddaddy sat in the bow with a cane pole about  5 feet long and a small lure called a Trix-oreno on the end of the line.  Mr. Taylor was in the stern where he was responsible for the motor with two long poles with corks and baited with minnows.  I was in the middle and had two long poles as well but found that I couldn't handle two at once.  I usually used just one and left the other laying in the boat.

What we were after were Speckled Perch.  We called them "Specks" and they are the fish that are know elsewhere as  Black Crappie.

While Mr. Taylor and I fished with minnows, Granddaddy jigged his Trix-oreno and we would load the boat every time.  Fishing would be so furious that we would quit putting them on the stringer and would throw them in the bottom of the boat.  The limit, I think, was 35 per person and these fish were as big as a double hand so it didn't take long for the boat to be covered.  I was a big man on those days.  Treated as an equal,I thought,and joked with about catching the first fish and the largest fish and the smallest fish and the ugliest fish and being able to eat all the crackers and sardines I wanted without having to ask permission.  About 2 or 3 o'clock we would go back to the fish camp where we cleaned the fish, got in the truck and went home.

Grandmamma made grits and fried fish.  There were tales about how good a fisherman I was and how the men had provided the meat for the table.  Grandmamma could make you feel 10 feet tall.

When I went off to bed, my head was so big that I could hardly get through the door.  Granddaddy was my best buddy.

[Kevin]

A man spoke frantically into the phone, "My wife is
pregnant, her contractions are only two minutes apart!"
                
"Is this her first child?" the doctor asked.

"No!" the man  shouted, "This is her husband!"

[Don P]

Jasper our jobsite PR manager outdid himself today. The local building supply sent out their tilesetter to do the master bath. I knew it was going to be a long morning when I walked in and he was telling Mrs. Homeowner all the reasons his job was going to be difficult, if not impossible. The sheetrockers had not thought about him, the glass door people had made his life terrible ( Got to hear how long each trade had been doing it "their way") I typically respond that the earth was known to be flat for a good millenia and that man would never fly so its entirely likely that a person could do a thing the wrong way all their life. OOH, realize I'm in mid rant.

Anyway, as this guy steps out for a morning break/smoke (break from what I don't know). He left his 9 remaining donuts and cappucino in the bath. Yup you guessedit  :D :D  

Poor little guy waddled up to us with this look on his face that said "Dog's not feeling too good". By quitting time he was back to his old self.

[Bill Johnson]

This is a little out of context with this thread but I found this in one of local papers. It describes how us northern boys can tell we are from Northern Ont.

You know you're from Northern Ontario when:

1)Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to pass a log truck on the highway.

2) "Vacation means going to North Bay for the weekend.

3) You measure distance in hours

4) You know several people who have hit a moose once and some that have hit a deer several times.

5)You often switch from "heat" to "air conditioning" in the same day.

6) Your grandparents drive 65 mph in 3 feet of snow.

7)You see people wearing hunting clothes at social events.

8) You have security lights in your yard but never lock the house or garage

9)You think the major food groups are moose, deer, fish and berries

10)You carry jumper cables in the car and even your wife/girlfriend knows how to use them

11)You know all four seasons; almost winter, winter, still winter  and construction

 :D :D

[Bibbyman]

If you could take a ride back a quarter century in time on Professor Peabody's Wayback machine,  you would find Mary and I living in our two bedrooms, one bath, cottage we had built with our own four hands.

We also had two fine toe-head boys,  Gabe six and Chris four, a dog named Snootz, and a 73 International Scout II.

You don't need to have a CPA conduct an audit to see that money was tight.
But we tried to do things with the boys about every week like, going to the drive-in movies, hit the circus when it came to town,  the county fair with it's carnival and the local school events, etc.

I got paid monthly and after the bills were paid,  if any money was left,  we also liked to go out to breakfast on one Sunday morning a month.  Forced to be frugal,  we had found just the right place - a truck stop out at the intersection to two major highways just north of us.  The food was plentiful, prices right and the menu to our liking.

Now,  if I would compile a list of all the bad behavior of my two sons,  it would be typical and long for sure.  But one thing I couldn't put on the list would be that they miss-behaved at the restaurant.  They were quiet,  respectful, and used reasonably good table manors.  We didn't have to bribe, threaten, or plead with them to eat.  They were growing country boys and generally did a good job of cleaning their plates.

But one time...  We had finished eating and were waiting at the cash register while Mary wrote out the check - rounding it up for money for a tip.  I gave the money to Gabe and instructed him to take it back to the table for a tip.  He really felt big getting to do this chore.  Chris would go with him for backup support on this important errand.

As we had parked at the end of the building,  Mary and I walked on out while Chris and Gabe made the tip run.  The sidewalk was tight to the building protected by the overhang.  There was a brick wall about shoulder high on the outside and glass above that making the inside of the restaurant a Sea World like aquarium.  

We got about 20 feet down the sidewalk and I noticed that two waitresses standing the main isle way had recoiled back, eyes popped out,  mouth open,  looking at something at their feet.  From their reaction,  I would have guessed someone had dropped a sack full of rattlesnakes.  

A widened view showed that the people in the booth between the glass and the isle had bolted back towards the glass and away from the isle.  A quick glance around the room showed that everyone was affixed on whatever the waitresses were looking at and also had a shocked look on their faces.  Though puzzled at what could have caused this reaction,  I just figured someone had dropped a tray full of dishes, a pot of coffee or something.  Mary and I continued on to the Scout.

Chris and Gabe came running out and caught us as we were getting in and climbed into the back seat.  We pulled out onto the highway and Gabe with his small little voice said: "Chris got sick."   "What?!"    He had not been sick before or while in the restaurant and,  although  we could see he was quiet now,  he didn't appear sick.  Gabe continued: "He fru-up in the restaurant."

Well,  that explained it.  As they returned from the table,  Chris had lost his breakfast, upchucked,  blown chunks,  tossed his cookies,  in the isle - en route.  Not breaking stride,  they just continued out. They were too short to see over the brick part of the wall.   Oh to think of the poor people trying to enjoy their breakfast!  :-[

I can't really say what caused Chris' sudden loss of control because it was all right afterwards.   I guess he just eat too much or the orange juice upset his stomach.  But it was a number of years before we came back to that restaurant.



Gabe, Chris and Snootz

[CHARLIE]

  I can relate to that story Bibbyman.....even the being dirt poor.  It reminds me of the time when my son was in 1st grade and had gotten ready to walk to school. He told me that his stomach hurt.:  Well, this boy wasn't born yesterday. I knew all those tricks on how not to go to school. So I stood my ground and told him he'd have to go anyway and that he'd feel better once he got there.  So like a good little boy he walked out the front door and threw up all over the front steps. He got to stay home and I felt bad for not believing him.:-/  I guess he wasn't as deceitful as I was.

Once, when I was in 1st grade, I told my Grandmother that I couldn't go to school 'cause I was sick. She told me to get dressed, go to school and tell the teacher that I wouldn't be able to go to school because I was sick. She was thinking that once I was there I'd stay. So I got dressed, slowly walked to school picking some weed flowers (Lantana) on the way for the teacher. When I got to school I told the teacher that I was sick and would not be going to school that day. I then walked home. My Grandmother said she was surprised to see me come home. Another time, I complained that I was sick (musta been 2nd or 3rd grade) so my grandmother fixed me a hot water bottle and then stuck a  thermometer in my mouth. Well, to make myself look like I had a fever, I put the thermometer on the hotwater bottle. When Grandma came back she took a look at it and asked if I had stuck it on the hotwater bottle. With a straight face I told her no. I think the jig was up though. I often wonder what that thermometer registered.:  I don't think Tom ever pretended to be sick. He was too honest ;D

Note to Bill Johnson: As Eggsander will probably agree that your list would also fit a Minnesotan pretty close. I do have a few questions about statement number 4.
4) You know several people who have hit a moose once and some that have hit a deer several times.
Is that just one moose that several people keep hitting? Are they only allowed to hit that moose once each? At any rate, he must be in pretty bad shape. Also, do they get to hit a deer multiple times?  I'm confused. Why can Canadians only get to hit a moose once but they can hit a deer multiple times. I can picture that. WHACK! They hit a deer, put the car in reverse and hit it again.     :D

[Eggsander]

Yup, that list fits pretty good. Heck my wife once hit two deer at on time with her pickup while on the way to work. I came by and there she sat in a neighbors driveway with a puddle of red under the truck ( transmission cooler got busted). Never found either one of the deer!  >:(
A burning question for Bill Johnson on Northern Ontarians then: Casserole or Hotdish?
Here's a little "mouths of babes" story:
About four or five years ago when they came out with the movie Toy Story, the stores were of course filled with the lasted merchandise related to the movie, the dolls, cars, and etc. In the odd chance you haven't seen the movie, or don't recall, the lead characters were a cowboy action figure named Woody and a spaceman action figure named Buzz Lightyear. So anyway my wife and I and our boy, who was about a three footer at the time had returned home after a Christmas party at the in-laws. We were standing in the kitchen and Sue and I were each looking holding one of the new toys that he had gotten as gifts. Suddenly he belts out "Look, Mom has a Buzz and Dad has a Woody!". He didn't know why we couldn't quit laughing.   :D :D :D :D :D

[Tom]

I served aboard a Destroyer, The U.S. Eaton DD-510.  Sailors are always joshing one another and sometimes, because rank gets in the way, you know better and still have to go through with the joke.
 
We were underway in the Caribbean when a storm front loomed ahead.  A 1st class Gunners Mate sent a "new" seaman apprentice to the flag locker to get a Rubber Storm Flag.  You see, we couldn't fly a cotton 'old Glory" in the weather we were getting ready to enter.
 
He went aft looking for the flag locker and was sent to most every station on the ship.  Along with not being able to find a flag, he was sent on a continuing spiral up the chain of command looking for it until finally he arrived at the Captains Quarters.  Feeling sorry for the sailor, who undoubtedly knew that he was on a wild goose chase, the captain told him that there was no such thing as a rubber storm flag and he should return to his watch with no fear of failure.
 
The Joke was not so much that he was sent for the flag but that each and every echelon of authority had perpetuated the wild goose chase.
 
To a crew of sailors whose daily entertainment consisted of pulling toy ducks and fire engines around the deck this was great fun.

[Tom]

Gordon just told a little story in "Woods Walking" about his kids being scared of an imaginary bear and it reminded me of an incident when my three boys were little, about 10 and twins 8.

I had taken them fishing south of Salt Springs to Rodman Pool.  It is a reservoir that the Feds created when they were going to create the "Cross Florida Barge Canal".  The water was very low and most of the camping places were taken up so we found a spot on a lonely beach where we had never been.  I unloaded the boat into water and set the tent up.  The boys took a walk up the road.  Directly here they came, running for dear life and dove into the tent.  

I looked down the road to see why they were running and saw nothing so went to the tent and asked what was going on.

Tommy, the oldest,  said that they had heard a noise in the woods.  They had asked who it was and no answer. Toby, the instigator, and Timo, the follower, had pitched rocks where they had heard the noises.  Nothing happened.  They all three threw rocks and whatever it was had thrown them back.

They ran for safety in the tent.

We don't know what it was to this day, but I suspect another camper/fisherman had a funny tale to tell his comrades when he returned to his camp.

The boys talk of this mystery animal to this day.

[Don P]

When Ken married and moved to the mountains his new bride's uncle owned the dairy and lived in the "new" house up by the road. Ken and wife moved into the old farmhouse. As he was getting things set up he felt a need for a fireboard under the old stove and asked the older gent about one. The dairyman replied that there was one in an old cabin back down the fenceline about a mile in the woods, and went on in for the day.
Ken started down the fenceline in the fresh snow and not knowing his surroundings walked headlong into the lagoon. Being waist deep already, rather than simply backing out he waded on across and continued with his trek through the woods and returned home with the fireboard.
His new bride met him at the back door and immediately put her foot down. He stripped on the stoop and she hosed him down before letting him in. Off to bed they went.
Along about milking time the next morning there was a frantic knock on the door, Ken went down. The dairyman is telling Ken that he needs some help, someone has fallen into the lagoon and drowned overnight. There are footprints leading in and none coming out. About then the older gent looks down at his feet, and sees the pile of wet clothes, grins, and says "never mind".

[Tom]

 :D That's great.  I can relate to not being let into the house.  I can also picture the concern of a farmer that someone may be lost on his place.   The farmers I saw for don't let  a wheel print go by without identifying whose it is. I've seen them go into a conniption fit when they can't find who made the track.

[Tom]

I'm not sure when this episode took place.  The driveway next door to Granddaddy's had not been paved and I remember the '39 Chevrolet so it must have been around '46.  I was not yet in school and Charles was still in diapers, as was I sometimes.
 
In the corner of the house formed by the dining room and living room, next to the Chimney (chimley), was a water spigot standing on about two feet of unsupported pipe which was attached to three feet of unburied pipe that ran horizontally to the corner.  The reason, I guess, was to get the spigot away from the house for easier access.
 
This particular day, Granddaddy had left a long length of hose, perhaps two twenty-five foot lengths, attached to the spigot.  Charles and I were playing and water was our favorite toy.  Nobody ever minded our playing in water so the hose was fair game.   We turned the water on and shot each other and made mud in the driveway  and were having a good time when I noticed that I could stick the hose in the ground and the water stream dug a hole that allowed me to push the hose into the ground.  What an invention !
 
We worked our way to the  NE side of the big Oak tree and were jetting the hose down close to where the new pavement would eventually be but still in the exposed roots of the tree.  The hose was jetted down  between two roots and all of a sudden an unexpected phenomenon to place.  The water from the hose disappeared and the hose started going down all by itself.  It scared me because I didn't understand what was going on.  I had Charles help me pull on the hose but it kept going down.  We didn't know what to do.  The hose went so far into the dirt that it began to tighten and lift off of the ground as tension was put on the spigot.  The pipe with the spigot attached began to lean over and I thought it was going to pull the whole house over.
 
What made me do it I don't know, but I ran to the spigot at the last minute and turned the water off.  The hose stopped.
 
Boy, was I in trouble now.
 
Charles and I got a shovel and a garden trowel and tried to dig the hose up.  We couldn't do it because of all of the roots.  What were we going to do?  Granddaddy was due home and we had lost his hose and torn up the house.  
 
Grandmamma saw our plight and suggested that we stop and wait for Granddaddy.  Oh boy,  That was the last thing I wanted, but being discovered took some of the pressure off and I just resigned myself to my punishment.  
 
Perhaps Grandmamma called Granddaddy at work and told him and perhaps not,  I'll never know.  Granddaddy drove into the driveway and parked short of the hose, which was stretched tight as a drum about a foot above the driveway and blocking his path to the back yard.  Granddaddy always acted very deliberately and was self composed.  Nothing ever disturbed his pace.  He got out of the car, walked to where the hose disappeared into the ground,  got out his Case pocket knife, which he kept razor sharp, stooped over and cut the hose close to the ground.  He then walked back to the car, got in and drove to the back yard where he parked.  He never said a word nor got onto us.  It was years later when I discovered the physics that caused us to lose the hose.
 
As long as I can remember, that spigot was bent at about a forty-five degree angle.  Uncle Pete installed a sprinkling system for Grandmamma, that was attached to the house and ran behind her Florida Cherry hedge at about two foot height, later.  I think the spigot was disconnected  or repaired at that point but it was years after.
 
One of these days,  that driveway will be torn up and the oak tree will be removed and out of the ground with the stump will come fifteen  feet or so of rubber water hose.  I wonder if they will even question its existence?
 

[L. Wakefield]

   OK, I'll bite on this one. I thought I knew my physics. It's got to be some form of the Venturi effect, but I can't see how it sucked the hose down. I'm familiar with it in terms of using a flowing stream of water in a hose and a small hole into it which you can use for suction- but...? :P   lw

[CHARLIE]

LW, I don't know how it works but believe me....the hose just travels down into the ground.  Give it a try, but you won't ever get your hose back.  Find some black dirt ('cause that was what we did it in), turn on the water and put the end of the hose next to the ground. As the water eats the dirt away, keep pushing the hose down into the hole. After awhile, the hose will start going down all by itself and you can't get it to stop unless you turn the water off. You can't pull the hose back out either..  

[Tom]

Actually I became aware of the physics that caused the phenomenon,  I don't claim to really understand them.

It was explained to me that the running hose had hit a stream of water in the ground,  not difficult in florida where the water level can be within a foot of the surface.   It was the stream of water that took the hose from our hands and the flow from the hose may have helped.  All I really know is that it works.  The hose proceeded toward the center of the earth on its own and there was nothing we little boys could do about it but turn the water off.  

Being reared by  adults other than the ones who reared us would also have been hazardous to our health.  We were really lucky to have these particular folks parenting us because I know that the parents of some of our friends would not have seen any humor in our plight and would have blistered our hinnies.  It really makes me appreciate my childhood.

[Tom]

 
I'm sitting here in January and the weather is turning cold with frost on everything the past couple of days.  It brings to mind an incident at school when I was at GMC and probably about 15 years old.
 
I lived in Main Barracks, an old building built in the 1800's.  Its front entry was a set of 15 foot wide granite steps that reached probably 8 or 10 feet high to a set of wide  double doors.  Platforms on either side of the steps made this a very imposing and impressive scene.
 
I was going to town with some friends and stepped out into the icy air in my spit-and-polish, polished brass, starched-to-a-board's-stiffness  uniform with my shiny shoes and the popular "horse shoe taps" on the heels.
 
I made the first top step and the steel clad heels of my shoes slipped on the ice.  Somehow I managed to get both feet under me and, with only the horse shoe taps on my heels touching the steps, proceeded to ski, knees bent and arms extended, all the way to the bottom....Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat.........CLAP as I hit the bottom.
 
As if nothing were wrong and as if this were a common place stunt I performed every day, I stood up straight and proceeded down the sidewalk toward town.  I could hear the amazed comments behind me and intercepted the "you nearly busted you A_ _ "  with a little tap dance and a shuffle, never admitting my frailty.  
 
It was funny then, but funnier now that I can remember every little bump and the exhileration of the shot of adrenaline as it rushed through my body.   It's been 45 years and It's as clear in my mind as if it were happening right now.

[DanG]

 :D :D    
Tom, do ya reckon ya really looked as graceful as you're thinkin'?  I'm bettin' you at least had a funny look on yer face.

[Tom]

Dan,  I left them behind so quickly that I doubt they had a chance to see my face. :D

[Bud Man]

Tom's story of finding a measure of warmth at minus 35 brought back a tale of a lady I met.   Seems the lady moved to a northern city in North Dakota one year about the first of March. Lady thought she would call some of her new  neighbors and be friendly and introduce herself. So she goes down the phone book and begins to call folks, each one of which declines because of a burial service to go to. After about 20 of these turn-downs the lady says to one of them -- look what's with all these burials ??  Is their something going on around here I should know about. (something in the water or what??) That's when one of the locals spoke up and said --People die here like everywhere else and we have a funeral service, but for those that die in our winters , we put off the  burial services until after March First --and then were pretty busy for about a month or so.

[CHARLIE]

Bud Man, that still happens here in Minnesota. Kind of hard to dig a hole if the ground is frozen. If it's a real cold winter, then they'll have a memorial service right after the death and then have the burial in the Spring.

[Bibbyman]

Talking about burials on a thread that is suppose to be for funny stories is a bit funny - strange kind of funny..

Well, a few years back my mom lost her brother to a long fight with cancer.  Mom took it really hard and we spent a lot of time with her during and after the memorial and burial.  :'(

At home afterwards, she was complaining about who had not made the effort to show their final respects to her brother.  And followed by saying: "Probably nobody would show for my funeral."  I should have held it but I couldn't.  "Mom.  You'll be pleased to know I've heard hundreds of people say they're just waiting to come to your funeral."   :-[  

Lucky for me the little morbid joke worked and she broke out laughing over her tears.  Everyone broke up.  ;)