That Stupid Old Pole

    It was Saturday and I knew what that meant. An hour or so doing chores inside the house with my sisters and then a few hours outside working the property by myself. I didn’t really mind developing the land my parents just bought there on the lake, I enjoyed it. It wasn’t a task I would call a chore. I did, however, resent the fact that I had to help with the dishes the laundry, and everything else I considered to be “girls work”, and then go outside and do more by myself.

    When the dishes were squeaky clean and the laundry was springtime fresh, I ventured outside to resume creating a beautiful and serene environment for our outdoor living pleasure. That morning though, I could barely see past the steam spewing out of my ears. Oh, how I wished I could go on over to the resort/trailer park next door to be with my friends. I just knew they were over there sneaking cigarettes and swimming.

    Our property sat on a large lake, and during WWII it was the site of an R&R camp for the soldiers. The only evidence there was of such a camp was a small building at the top of the hill on the resort’s side, and a whole lot of wire buried beneath the dirt and rocks on our side. I had encountered the wire and rocks every time I went out to make progress on our vision of Eden, and it was always aggravating. But on this day, and only a few minutes into it, I was ready to scream FOR CRYIN’ OUT STINKIN’ LOUD!!!

    Ever been so mad that all you wanted to do was let it all out at the top of your lungs? So loud and furiously that it would make Smokey Bear pee in his overalls, and the person you’re venting to just stands there, snickers and cracks a joke? “Shut up”, you’d say! “I don’t want to laugh”! But you couldn’t help but crack a smile?

    I was PISSED! I had to stay home and do girly work inside with my sisters, go outside and work even more, and listen to my friends squirreling the day away while wrestling with rocks and wire from decades ago. MAN!

    As I was pulling on a strand of wire, I kept muttering things in languages I didn’t even know existed. The strand I was working on kept coming out of the earth like a bunch of handkerchiefs from a clowns pocket. All of a sudden an old fishing pole popped out, reel and all. I pulled it out of the ground, examined it for a minute then tossed it aside. I kept working that wire up for a bit until it wound it’s way back to where I tossed that pole. THAT’S IT! I yelled out. I grabbed the pole at the small end, and with all the anger and frustration I had inside of me, I swung that stupid old pole into the nearest tree to snap it like a little toothpick. I swung it like a slugger. It might have even gone out of the ballpark if the other end didn’t swing around to jack me on the back of my head.

    I dropped everything to retire to whatever it was my friends were doing, but I have to admit, I needed a good swat on the back of my head by then anyway. Or at least a good laugh. I guess I got both