GIGGLE BOYS

In order to get a better view of the preacher, we started sitting in the very front row. The first Sunday that we sat in the front row, my brother and I were getting a large charge out of watching the antics of this preacher and what he was saying and how he was saying it. We started snickering and couldn't stop. It was all very entertaining and we had such a good time that we had to go back the next week. This was better than candy any day. Once again we sat in the very front row and again we started to snicker and giggle. We tried to hold it back but eventually we got rather loud. This was when two ladies from the congregation came up and sat down on either side of us. This cooled us down so we sat through the rest of the sermon with only a snicker or two. We went back the next week for the last time. Again we sat in the front row but this time the two ladies didn't wait until the middle of the sermon, they positioned themselves on either side of us before the sermon started. The preacher must have felt secure with this arrangement because he really poured it on this Sunday. My brother and I couldn't help ourselves, we started giggling and couldn't stop. The ladies moved us apart and sat down between us but it was too late, we couldn't stop giggling. One of the ladies reached down and pinched me on the leg with a small but sharp pinch that really hurt. The other lady did the same to my brother. We stopped giggling for awhile and put our money in the collection plate as the ladies watched, but started again when the preacher went into one of his tirades, if I remember correctly, pointing us out as possible devils, or under the spell of the devil. The ladies pinched us again for the last time. We never went back to that church or any other church until after moving to California.

PIN THE BABY TO THE DIAPER

Which reminds me of an incident with my brothers baby daughter. Every once in a while I would go to my brothers and his wifes apartment to baby sit for their daughter. The daughter was less than one year old and wore the only diapers that were available in those days, namely, real diapers, that required pins. On one of these occasions, I changed the daughters diapers about ten minutes before the parents were ready to leave. I didnt realize that I had pushed one of the pins through the diaper and the babys skin. That tender skin offered no resistance so I couldnt tell the difference between diaper and skin. The odd thing about this incident, the baby didnt cry or let me know that something was wrong the moment the pin pricked her skin. It seemed like about three minutes passed while I was giving myself a pat on the back for doing such a good job when that cute little baby face squinched into a deep frown, her eyes closed tightly, her mouth opened and her lips rolled back, and out came a loud sobering cry that wasnt about to give up. The mother grabbed the baby and lifted her in the air, put her back on the bed and unpinned the diapers. The mother had this experience before. The cries stopped, there was practically no bleeding, and no real harm done. I felt very bad, pinning the baby to the diaper, but I recovered. My brother and his wife went on their date and I, subsequently, always put my fingers between the baby and the diaper and never again pinned a baby to a diaper.

REPORT FOR INDUCTION

The next morning I gathered my certificate for Officers Candidate School, and my toothbrush, toothpaste, and electric razor as the induction notice instructed. My father drove me down to the draftboard. We didnt say very much along the way. We said goodbye and I got out of the car, my father drove off, and I joined a group of men standing in front of the building that housed the draftboard office. There was a big yellow bus parked at the curb in front of the draftboard. Several other men arrived at the scene and a little after the prescribed time, I think nine oclock, a sargeant dressed in an army uniform appeared on the scene with a clipboard in hand. He walked over to the bus and opened the door, then turned toward the group of men and spoke: When I call your name get on the bus. The sargeant looked down at a sheet of paper on the clipboard and read the first name, that person got on the bus. He read the next name and the next, they were in alphabetical order. He got to the Ss. My name was not called. He read several more names and ceased. I walked over to the Sargeant and asked him if my name was on his list. He looked and showed me the list, my name was not on the list. The sargeant said that everyone was accounted for. He got on the bus and the bus drove off, probably to Fort Ord over near Monterey Bay. I was left standing on the sidewalk in front of the draftboard. I wasnt really feeling any joy or relief, it was more like a touch of disappointment. The member of the board that I met, said that I would hear from them but he gave no indication that it would be this dramatic. I never did receive words from the draftboard ever again.