Born Nov 3, 1948, Twin Falls, ID
University of Idaho 1966-1969
US Army: SGT, 10th Special Forces; 1969-1972
Military: Airborne, Army Skiing, Army Mountain Climbing, German Airborne
My First Fist Fight
All my life I had a great disdain for bullies. My first fist fight with a bully came when I was two or maybe three years old with the neighbor kid who was two years older than I and quite a bit bigger. I punched the kid for throwing rocks at my dog, Gyp.
Gyp was a good dog and did nothing wrong, so I warned the punk. I said something like, " Look unk, you frow anodder wock at my gog and I ill ea the ell ou of oou!" in no uncertain three year old terms. He took no heed to my warning as he was much larger, and Gyp yelped in pain, so I showed the kid I was true to my word. He headed off crying toward his home with blood squirting out his nose.
The bullies Mother came running out. She was angry and yelling at me when my Mother appeared on the scene. The kid's Mother started yelling at my Mother for raising such a bully, but I said, "Ees the ully hurin' my gog wid a wock, so I gwave him a ist ull of insruchion on why ee soodn't oo aat. At's all I id!" At three years old I had a hard time making my point, but I think I finally got that across to my Mother.
There I was standing there with the bloody nosed kid, both our mouths wide open, as my Mother and the kids Mother were using words neither one of us heard before. Gyp was sitting there beside me with his tail wagging, understanding that all the ruckus was about him and enjoying the attention.
The end result was a neighbor lady that hated the 3 year bully and his Mother. My Mother didn't mind as she wasn't exactly fond of the neighbor lady anyway. We moved away from Shoshone Falls to the upper salmon power plant near Hagerman, Idaho with my dog shortly after that incident.
Who's Ornerier: My Brother or I?
One summer day I took on the task of organizing my brother's and my closet with all the hand me down stuff. I spent time organizing and putting stuff away in boxes. I stacked small open boxes on top of big boxes on top of bigger boxes and so on. I had a place for the baseball, bat and gloves,the football, and basketball and to every season, each had its place.
I worked hard at it for a couple of hours (forever for a young kid) and had just finished with it all neat, when my brother came and saw what I had done. "Ornery being in his nature", he decided he wanted something from a bottom box. As was his enjoyment, he pulled out the bottom box in such a way as to intentionally spill every thing destroying what I had done. Then he laughed at me thinking there was nothing I could do to him being 5 1/2 years older.
"Ornery being in my nature", I calmly went into closet, moved a couple of boxes out of the way to get at the baseball bat with which I mounted my justification attack and hit him hard. He turned to run when he felt a second glancing blow. With me in hot pursuit it was out the bedroom door, down the stairs and out the front door screaming as he went, "Mom, he's going to kill me, he's going to kill me!" with me right behind swinging the bat. He could run faster than me so there was not much danger of death but there we were, my brother, me, my Mother running outside across the park single file with my brother screaming, me swinging, and my Mother trying to grab me without getting hit herself. Right out there with all the neighbors enjoying the show. It must have been quite a show too as it was the talk of the neighborhood for a sometime.
When Dad heard what happened he said, "David, you can't use a bat to hit your brother and Butch you go fix that closet!" Neither one of us got a spanking. I'm not sure why not, but I think he figured I got my licks in and Butch deserved the knot on his head, and was quietly laughing about it under his breath 'cause he had some "ornery in this nature" and "a genuine appreciation of things ornery" too.
Above is just a small sampling of my up bringing and my life. I am one that has certainly had some hard knocks come my way, but I also gave back about as good as I got. I say this because if I were God I am not one I would choose to write a book "To Open One's Eyes" about what has been lost through two millennia.
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