Jeans

When we moved to Chisago City, MN, my mother, for whatever reason, always dressed me different then my brother.  I was never allowed to wear jeans like him, always khakis and a button down Ivy League shirt.  I felt that I could get into Yale just for the cloths I wore.  One day in the eighth grade I revolted and after breakfast, snuck back upstairs and took my brothers old ratty jeans he wore around the house and put them on and ran for the bus stop.  Little did I know that I would be setting a trend, albeit 50 some odd years later, with blown out knees and rips across the thighs and without a belt they hung so low I thought I would trip.  It was one of those, “what the fuck is that kid wearing” kind of days.  Needless to say I went back to wearing Khakis’.  Never did make Yale.  Being stupid, I could have been President.

Longest Ferris wheel ride

Tales from the Backyard… One year a small traveling carnival  came to Chisago City (my home town) and set up next to and in the park in front of the then Post Office.  Around six, my friend Ron and I started to walk around and as a storm was approaching (in those days you had to look up not on a screen and no weather alerts) we decided to be the first on the Ferris wheel to beat the storm.  We were loaded and the operator was moving us to the top to load more passengers when this big gust of wind hit and down came the torrential rain and hail accompanied with flashes of lightning and the immediate sound of thunder.  Everyone ran for cover, including the operator.  We had nowhere to hide and were pelted mercilessly for about 20 minutes as we went round and round, laughing all the way.   When out popped the sun and we finished the ride soaking wet,  we weren't even charge us extra for the extra long experience.