Rammin & jammin correction

Actually, the "billy-goat" in the story was, in fact, a ram. But, other than that, the story as written, repeated itself quite often.

I must admit, however, that we kids antagonized that ram whenever we had the chance.

Michael Vigar, on more than one occasion, would torment the animal to the point the ram would blindly charge Michael who, acting like a torreador, would jump to the side causing the poor ram to crash into a tree or any other unmovable object that was near.

Boys on the bow.

It is hard to imagine what its like to grow up in a place where there are very few of the things that are so common to what the rest of the world enjoys. Cars, appliances, air conditioning, or even windows with glass panes. Then, imagine leaving that place at age nineteen and being thrust into a modern booming society with all the hustle and bustle that we all take for granted. That , in fact, is what happened to me!

We were not even to our destination, but were still on the ship from South America, when my inexperience was made evident.

One day, my four brothers, Luke, Joe, Joel and Raphael (aged 12, 10, 8 and 6 respectively) wandered to an off-limits area on the bow of the ship. Of course, they did not realize the danger they put themselves in, they had only wanted to get the best view of the ocean they could find.

They were discovered by the captain from the bridge before anyone was hurt, and were scolded very sternly. All’s well that ends well, or so one would think. But, having climbed into an area that was not intended for the travelers, the boys inadvertently got into some grease and tar

Mom was very upset as there were not a lot of clothes for the boys. The responsibility of getting the tar out was given to me. I was the oldest. Big whoop! I was sent to a room and was shown a large square concrete sink. I spent what seemed like an eternity scrubbing and washing the clothes, by hand. In vain I might add! I then gave up.

Tired and frustrated by my efforts, and lack of success, I decided to return to my cabin.

Turning from my "chamber of horrors", the sink, I noticed the rows of white metal boxes.

It was later when I was told the “white boxes” were washers and dryers.

Rammin & jammin

These stories, “Jungle Gems”, are from my past and hopefully will be enjoyable for all that read them.

Growing up in the jungles of Paraguay left much to be desired as to the comforts of home. Many times the necessities of life, although seemingly serious at the time, offer some comic relief, though usually “that relief"comes at a later time...How do you spell “relief” ?

Our house had all the conveniences that a home in The Paraguayan jungle had. Three rooms and a "path" (the path was about 45 or 50 yards). When nature called it was imperative that the utmost haste be utilized. Not only for the obvious reason for the journey, but also for the perils that lie ahead for anyone that attempts such a venture to the outhouse. Our perils included an especially irreverent and cantancorous billy goat. Whenever I felt “the call”, I first had to look for the goat, and, depending on the urgency of “the call” , I would either postpone my "pilgrimage", or would run for all my life hoping that I would not only beat the goat, but find the outhouse unoccupied.

Run across the path! Throw open the door! Slam the door shut! And wait for the inevitable. BANG! The goat butting into the outhouse.

Ah, sweet success. .. If only I did not have to make the return trip.

Gem #1

This is the beginning of my blog and the story of my life as I remember things. My granddaughter talked me into starting an "online diary" of sorts to tell my story. She thinks it's interesting as do others...and they are some pretty fascinating memories that I have and I cannot wait to share.

This is my life as I remember it.