tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2874417353860092297.post3295088183066790122..comments2024-01-27T09:38:13.091-08:00Comments on MEMOIRS OF A PRAIRIE BOY: NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SERVICE!Stephen J Rendallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14747884070369868469noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2874417353860092297.post-36557340674300653582010-08-10T05:17:52.990-07:002010-08-10T05:17:52.990-07:00Good 'ol Bob.... He and Fred Pachta used to co...Good 'ol Bob.... He and Fred Pachta used to come and stand around outside my house, as near the windows as they could, and usually near dinner time. When I asked them in for a dinner which hadn't been prepared yet, or even thought about, they hum-hoed, dug their toes into the grass, looked down... but only for a millisecond before answering, "well, if it's not too much trouble, which it was - but they were the only friends I had, and besides, Fred had been carving what looked liked penises - I think they were supposed to be mushrooms - for my yard, and I felt honored to have these 2 foot penises in my yard.... so that meant we were friends.<br /><br />Bob insisted that I go to his men's association dinner, or whatever it was called - a bunch of play boys if you ask me. But he was sure I would receive the gift of tongues, whatever that meant. So I went. In those days I was still quite bashful, though not so much around them. When it came time to receive the gift of tongues, I valiantly "went forward", at the insistence of Bob and let them pray for me to receive my "gift". Nothing came out. Bob told me to just open my mouth and the "words" would flow. So I opened my mouth. Nothing. I stood there with an open mouth, surrounded by the dudes who had made me yard penises... and nothing happened. The other men told me I was hard hearted. I cried. I didn't want to be hard hearted, and knew I wasn't. I'd really wanted to do something for these ragamuffins old dudes who hung about PBI with nothing much to do except peek in the windows of a young single mom's lonely, but huge and hopeful heart.<br /><br />I miss those guys. Not too long ago, I had a brief run-in with Bob's youngest son who was very disgruntled that I would tell him something so obviously untrue - that his "God-fearing" father would hang around looking in the windows of a much younger woman .... not caring that these older dudes were my best friends, and only friends during that time and even though they've been gone a long time, they were still my best friends. Nobody else hung around outside my house at dinner time, or brought me yard penises...Deanna Hart Selingerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08379902920567494963noreply@blogger.com