"WE'RE JUST LITTLE KIDS!"

This next blog entry is dedicated to three, young “knuckle-heads,” who were always getting themselves into a situation that always ended with the same results. The three “knuckle-heads” know who they are and will understand this story wholeheartedly.

This particular story is set in Georgia during one hot, summer day………



It was another hot, smoldering, summer day in a little Georgia town called Collins. The kind of day where sitting under a shade trade tree was nothing more than a temporary hiding spot until a better thought came along. The kind of day where the pigs laid in mud all day to keep cool, and the kind of day where you didn’t hear a peep out of the farm animals, although there were hundreds of them, and the kind of day where even the flies weren’t interested in swarming.

Yep. It was just another hot summer day in Georgia. Not the kind of day you would want to go outside and work in a hot, dusty field, especially if you are an eight, nine and ten year old kid! That is where Jenny, Junior and Greg come in. This was one hot summer day they decided to rebel against one of their most important daily chores – working in the field pulling weeds from around the rows of corn.

The kids felt it was just too hot to go outside, and besides, it felt much cooler inside under a freezing, cold air conditioner. They were enjoying playing with games, and toys, and were getting along splendidly together for once. It wasn’t often the trio could play in harmony without a fight breaking out among them.

Jenny was their 10 year old cousin who came to stay with them for the summer. Jenny was a city girl but loved the freedom the country provided: Acres and acres of land to run and play without the interruption of crowed streets, buildings, pollution, and the rapid noise that was a constant of city life. And if hunger pains happened to hit, there was plenty of fresh pickings from the multitudes of berry bushes, fruit trees and the garden patch of sweet raw vegetables, where Jenny and her cousins would daily, plop themselves down with a shaker of salt and pepper and eat raw peas, tomatoes and corn and cucumbers until they were about to pop. Jenny was also the older of her two cousins, which meant she thought she was smarter and enjoyed bossing Junior and Greg around when she could.

Junior was 9 years old and the self appointed leader of the trio. Junior was a mischievous boy who always sought trouble and had no problem finding it. That’s because he was usually the start of it. He even looked like trouble; and oddly enough, he seemed cuter when he was up to no good. Junior could also be a bully who got a kick out of intimidating his brother Greg into being a willing participant of his devious deeds. Strangely, these were the few times that Jenny and Junior got along. Getting into devilish mischief, bullying, and sometimes resorting to beating Greg into going along with their plan, were the only times Jenny and Junior really saw eye-to-eye.

Greg was 8 years old and the sweet, logical child of the trio, which is why Jenny and Junior often felt they had to bully or beat him until he agreed to go along with their plan, or whatever devilment they were about to partake in. Anytime Jenny and Junior got an idea to do something they knew wouldn’t sit right with the adults, Greg was always there to remind them “Y’all know ya gonna get in trouble!” which would always be followed up by a “Shut up, Greg!” which would then be followed by the standard bullying or beating of Greg.

But Greg could be pushed too far by the bullying duo. Greg took a lot from them, but he had his boiling point like most animals that are pushed too often or backed into a corner. Jenny and Junior never did tell of the time Greg beat them both up in the tomato patch one day, after being pushed too far by them. Let’s just say Greg had them running scared and begging for mercy.

As you can see, with Jenny and Junior as influences, it was hard for Greg to maintain his sweet demeanor and be the obedient child that he could have been. Secretly, Jenny and Junior knew that having Greg involved in their dirty deeds, added credibility to their little fibs once they got caught.

Lela, the boys’ mother, interrupted the peaceful playtime to inform them it was time for them to go into the field. The children began their protest: “It’s too hot to go outside and work today. Why can’t we just stay inside and play like normal little kids.” Lela told them their grandfather would be expecting them and that they had to go into the field and help him. The children insisted on standing their ground; “But it’s too hot. We want to stay inside and play. We’re just little kids! We shouldn’t have to work so hard!” Lela felt sorry for the persistent trio, although she wouldn’t openly admit that she did. She told the children they could stay for a few minutes more and play, but then they would have to go meet their grandfather in the corn field. More than a few minutes went by when they heard an urgent knock at the door. Everyone seemed to understand the knock without even having to open the door. They knew it was their grandfather coming to claim the peacefully, playing children for their daily grind of field work.

The children protested to Lela to tell their grandfather that they were sick or that they couldn’t come out because they had too much to do inside. Lela informed the pitiful, puppy-eyed trio that they had to go help their grandfather, but once they got back, there would be a nice meal waiting on them and they could play afterwards. In Junior’s last attempt to make logic out of why they had to work on such a hot day, he asked his mother why doesn’t his little brother, Todd, have to work. “Because Todd is only a year old – he’s a baby,” replied Lela. “That’s still no excuse,” said Junior. “He can still sit in one spot in the field and pull up weeds.” Jenny and Greg urged Junior to quit fussing and to just go and get it over with (Junior had a way of taking advantage of Lela’s kindness, when he knew good and well, he would not behave in that manner if his father, Harold, would have been there. Harold was a strict disciplinarian whose authority was never questioned).

The children reluctantly went on their way where they found their grandfather waiting impatiently outside for them: A grandfather in his seventies who was born of old southern ways and traditions, who believed in hard work, and had absolutely no tolerance for unruly children.

“You chillins’ thought you were gonna git out of working today, didn’t ya?” “No sir,”replied the children. “Well, there’s plenty of work to be done and catching up to do because y’all were too lazy to git up early and come help me.” As they got closer into the corn field, the children could hear the sounds of their grandfather’s radio. He enjoyed listening to the radio while he worked and he wanted to keep up with the radio news reports. Once deep into the field, the children were assigned rows of corn and started on their daily task of pulling up weeds from around the crops.

Hot and aggravated, the children were in no mood to work what looked like miles and miles of corn in the hot, blazing Georgia sun; but what other choice did they have. Suddenly, a catchy tune from the radio sent waves through the air like a burst of energy. Perfect! This is just what the children needed; a song to give them the incentive to rebel. The song was perfect, even the name in the song was the same as their grandfather’s first name, and the words seemed to fit what they felt was their exact sentiments. At that point, the children had decided to rebel and make their grandfather’s day a living, daytime nightmare.

So the children began to sing over and over again: “LITTLE WILLIE WON’T GO….HOME…..AND HE WON’T LEAVE US ALONE….LITTLE WILLIE WON’T GO……GO…..HOME!”

“GIT BACK TO WORK, WHAT DO Y’ALL THINK YOU’RE DOING!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL US WHAT TO DO WILLIE!” “THAT’S RIGHT, W-I-L-L-I-E!” “GO HOME WILLIE AND LEAVE US ALONE!” “YEAH, GO HOME MEAN WILLIE!” “MEAN WILLIE,’ that’s a good one, Junior,” said Jenny. “GO HOME MEAN WILLIE!”

“WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO YOU LITTLE HEATHENS!” “WE’RE JUST LITTLE KIDS; WE DON’T WANT TO WORK!”

With a concerned and hurt look on his face, “Mean Willie” made a move to catch one of the little “heathens,” but he was no match for their quick, sly, energetic moves. For a brief second, the children felt a touch of remorse for what they were doing, but there was no time for remorse or weakness, they had to band together and continue to stand their ground. Deep down inside, the children knew they were in serious trouble. So they decided to make the best of the situation, or the worst would be more like it.

As they danced and sang their “WILLIE” song, the trio circled around their grandfather kicking dirt and throwing tomato worms and blueberries on him. Feeling defeated, their grandfather departed with a frustrated smile and a look of I’ll be back soon. “BYE, MEAN WILLIE,” yelled the children.

Feeling good about themselves for what they believed was a big win for succeeding in running off their grandfather, the children found a cool spot in the middle of the corn field and sat down to play with insects and savor their win. They knew deep in their souls, they were in big trouble, but nothing was spoken about the obvious, they knew what was coming next. They could be some challenging tykes at times, but never outright defiant with someone in authority. But this was also one of the few times the trio had been strongly united for a common cause, and they were feeling quite proud of themselves for sticking together. So they decided to enjoy the peaceful, quiet moment for as long as time allowed. It seemed like hours had passed, when................

“AAAHHHHH!” Greg was hit first! “Mean Willie” had returned with a vengeance! He snatched Greg up by the arm and proceeded to whip him with what appeared to be a ten foot switch (In case anyone had ideas of running)! The trio had been huddled in a circle, in deep thought as they watched grasshoppers race to the end of a dirt drawn finish line. There was no warning to alert them of “Mean Willie’s” return. Jenny and Junior’s first instinct was to run, but their conscious reminded them that they were in this together. Feeling sorry for Greg, they decided to stay and accept their punishment.

Once it was all said and done, the children realized, they couldn’t put one over on an old wise man, and maybe they shouldn’t have been so defiant. As the children felt sorry for themselves and worked in silence with their grandfather nearby making threats if he heard a peep out them, the tiny sounds of giggles were heard.

As the sun began to set and cool the hot Georgia air, tears began to dry, and the tingling and sting from the pain of being disciplined began to subside, the youthful spirit that makes children who they are was finding its way back into the souls of the trio. A new day would be born tomorrow, a new day of ideas, schemes, mischief and secret rebellion. After all, "WE WERE JUST LITTLE KIDS!!!"

*This is my last blog entry for now. I hope that you have enjoyed my stories as much as I have enjoyed sharing my stories with you, but I have other pressing issues that require my attention. It’s been fun. Thank you for reading and commenting on my blogsite, whether is was in person, by e-mail, or written as a comment on the blogsite.