Campy Camper

th3EKZ50VW bus 2

See this great old school bus.  It is so much nicer than the one Daddy acquired for the unbelievable sum of fifty dollars. He purchased it from his brother-in-law, who’d gotten stuck with it as payment body work.  Daddy was ahead of his time In acquiring this Tiny House.  Mother was furious.  Fifty dollars would have bought more than two week’s supply of groceries.  Though he gave Mother no end of grief about her extravagant spending at the grocery store, he wasn’t short-sighted and saw the great potential in this bus-camper.  It would be a wonderful shelter when he and his buddies went deer hunting, and oh yes, the family could use it for camping, too!  Now our camper wasn’t nearly so nice as the one pictured above.  It had been partially hand-painted bright silver and lacked a motor. The good news was, we could finish it up any color we liked and motors take up a lot of unnecessary space better used for storage.  In that special storage area, items were stored in boxes on one deep shelf or in  boxes on the floor beneath the shelf.  While the rest of us were out fishing, swimming, or just running wild in general, Mother drug boxes out and dug through them for dishes, pots and pans, and food, all this with two babies in diapers.  She complained about her back constantly.  What a whiner! .

nice inside

See how comfortable and well-appointed the camper pictured above is.  Ours was nothing like this.  There was no refrigerator, lighting, water, bathroom, hard-wood floors, or Benjamin Franklin wood burning stove.  There was, however, an ancient gas range Daddy hooked to a propane bottle.  It had two functioning burners and a defunct oven.  That was okay, since Mother insisted it had a propane leak and she was scared to use it longer than it took to heat a can of beans or cook eggs.  She cooked with all the windows open and made Daddy cut the fuel off every time she got through.  In fact, it did have a propane leak in the line, but that’s a story for another day. Two full-size bunk beds filled the rear of the camper.  Two sets of old army bunks were stacked along either side.  Of course, we fought over the top bunks.  The lower bunks served as seating.  A lantern and flash lights served when light was needed. It was perfect.  I remember one wonderful camping trip when Daddy pulled it to a creek bank.  We swam, fished, swatted mosquitoes, cooked outdoors, only going in to sleep, so exhausted we hardly moved till morning.  Mother got up several times every night to spray to camper with bug killer and spray the covers and any exposed skin with mosquito repellent.  We scratched bug bites and poison ivy for days after we got home. That was our only family camping trip.  Daddy used it a time or two for hunting, then gave it up as too much trouble.  It had a couple of other incarnations as a home for a farm laborer who confirmed the stove fuel line leak before it descended so far down the social scale it ended life as a junk shed on Daddy’s farm. To me, that camper was worth every cent!

Liar! Liar!

A jogger running down a country road is startled as a horse yells at him “Hey-come over hear buddy”. The jogger is stunned but runs over to the fence where the horse is standing and asks”Were you talking to me”? The horse replies”Sure was, man I’ve got a problem. I won the Kentucky Derby a few years ago and this farmer bought me and now all I do is pull a plow and I’m sick of it. Why don’t you run up to the house and offer him $5,000 to buy me. I’ll make you some money cause I can still run.” The jogger thought to himself,”boy a talking horse” Dollar signs started appearing in his head. So he runs to the house and the old farmer is sitting on the porch. The jogger tells the farmer”Hey man I’ll give you $5,000 for that old broken down nag you’ve got in the field”. The farmer replies”Son you can’t believe anything that horse says-He’s never even been to Kentucky.

And that’s when the fight started…….

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I took my lovely wife to a nice restaurant.

The waitertook my order first.

“I’ll have the strip steak, rare, please.”

He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?”

“She can order for herself.”

And that’s when the fight started…..

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My sweet wife and I were at a table at her high school

reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his

drink as he sat alone nearby.

I asked her, “Do you know him?”

“Yes”, she sighed,

“He’s an old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking

right after we split up and

hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” I said, “Who would think a person could go on

celebrating that long?”

And then the fight started…

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When our lawn mower broke, my wife kept telling me that I should get it fixed.

But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat,

making beer.. Always something more important.

Finally she thought of a snotty way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing

I handed her a toothbrush.

scissors. I watched quietly and then went into

the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again

I said, “When you finish cutting the

grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.”

The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.

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My wife sat down next to me as I was flipping channels.

She asked, “What’s on TV?”

I said, “Dust.”

And then the fight started…

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Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the

boat up to the van and proceeded to back out into a terrible rain storm. The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather

would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back;

now with a different anticipation,

and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”

My loving wife of 5 years replied, “And, can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?”

And that’s how the fight started…

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My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary.

She said, “I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in 3 seconds.”

I bought her a bathroom scale.

And then the fight started……

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After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply

for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me

for my driver’s License to verify my age. I looked in my pockets

and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that

I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.

The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’.

So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair.

She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application.

When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.

She said, ‘You should have dropped

your pants. You might have gotten disability too.’

And then the fight started…

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My wife was standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror.

She was not happy with what she saw and said to me,

“I feel horrible; I look old, fat and ugly. I really need you

to pay me a compliment.’

I replied, “Your eyesight’s nearly perfect.”

And then the fight started……..

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I rear-ended a car this morning…the start of a REALLY bad start to the day!

The driver got out of the other car, and he was a DWARF!!

He looked up at me and said ‘I am NOT Happy!’

So I said, ‘Which one ARE you then?’

That’s how the fight started.

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One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot

as a Christmas gift…

The next year, I didn’t buy her a gift.

When she asked me why, I replied,

“Well, you still haven’t used the gift I bought you last year!”

And that’s how the fight started

A Soft Place to Fall

Dana and Bill lived across from us for years.  Their two kids, Betsey and Greg hung out at our house a lot.  Betsey was our daughter’s age and Greg about three years younger.  He hung out with the girls or me and Bud.  He was a witty, cute kid and we liked having them both around.  Dana, a psychiatric nurse, worked nights.  She was a card-carrying mean drunk.  Even if they were allowed indoors, they were only allowed to eat a pre-determined amount of food since she didn’t want them to get fat. She had locks on the cabinets and freezer. Of course, they were always hungry and ate with us. Much of the time, she locked the kids out so she could sleep. Bill, also an alcoholic, was totally whipped and didn’t protect the kids. 

One afternoon, Greg rushed over to the house.  “Don’t let my dad get me!  He’s gonna beat my ass!  Greg disappeared into the bathroom with his dad close on his heels.  Bill pounded on the back door and tried to push in past Bud with a belt doubled up in his fist, none too steady on his feet.  Had he thought ahead, he’d have realized that was a bad idea.  Bud had four inches of reach and forty pounds on him, but Bud stayed calm.

“I’m coming in for Greg.  Dana said I gotta whip him.  Him and the Bailey kid got in the beer.  His mama told him what was gonna happen if he got in the beer.”  Bill looked shamefaced, his heart not in his errand.

“Now hold on.  I can’t let you go in my house and beat a kid.  There are better ways to handle this.” Bud told him.  “Go back home and sober up.  Looks like y’all have both had plenty of beer.”

“Alright, I won’t come bustin’ in over you, but I’m gonna beat his ass when he gets home.” Bill offered.

“I’d think real hard about that.”  Bud told him.  “If you do that, you’ll have to deal with me.  Go on home.  Your boy can stay here till you’re sober and we’ll talk about it.”  Bill left, seeming somewhat relieved at not having to deal with anything he’d stirred up.

Bud called Greg out.  “Greg, you know you’re not old enough to drink.  I wouldn’t let you drink either.  You can stay here till I talk to your Dad and it’s safe to go home.”

The next day Bill came over and talked to the three of us, Greg, Bud, and me.  “Dana said  he can come home, but he’s going to Pine Hill.  (Adolescent Psychiatric Facility)  Get your stuff, boy.”

Bud asked Greg.  “Is that what you want to do?”

“No sir.  Can I stay here a few more days?” Greg asked.

“That’s between you and your dad.  What do you think, Bill?”

“I gotta talk to Dana.  She’s still pretty worked up.”  Bill answered.

Greg stayed, not causing a minute of trouble.  We weren’t foolish enough to think the problem was solved.  We just wanted him safe.  Four days later, Dana came to see Greg.  “Do you want to come home?  We miss you. You’ve been punished enough.”

“Am I still in trouble?  Dad ain’t gonna whip me is he?  I don’t  want to go to the hospital.” Greg looked worried.

“No. I promise.  Dad ain’t going to whip you and we aren’t to put you in the hospital.  Just stay out of the beer.” She told him.

He went home to an apparently peaceful house, for the moment.

Over the next couple of years the family dynamics changed, not by choice.  Dana got cancer and didn’t live long.   She was heavily medicated and continued to drink, so her involvement was less each day.  When she got too sick to work, they had to find a cheaper place to live. The children grew up and we lost touch, except for a time or two.  The last I heard, Greg was doing well enough to move out on his own.  Betsey was in and out of a couple of relationships, but eventually settled down, married,  and had a couple of kids.  The last I heard, she was going to nursing school.I hope for the best for these kids.