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9/15/2004

Fences Are For Grownups (Part 2)

Reading my own comments is a little like opening a door to memories that have been stored away and forgotten. So it was with the last commentary. That bit about “No Boundaries” and not liking fences all that much sparked old memories from a very distant past. 
 
I was the oldest of three children. My parents had moved onto a farmstead that my grandfather had bought in 1947. The big two story house watched over several acres of buildings including a barn, chicken house, machine shed, grainery and a crumbling tool shed. I was born March 26, 1950, and within a couple of years was toddling all around the yard. So, to protect me from the dangers of the farm yard my dad built a nice fence all around the immediate yard around the house.  
 
That fence didn’t sit well with me and even at that early age I set out to find a way out. The fence was just a little too flexible to just climb over. Each time I tried I would come tumbling down. But, I watched as my mother and father walked in an out of the gate and soon realized that it was sturdy enough to hold me in my attempt to scale the “wall” and escape! 
 
I don’t know how long I was gone before my mother discovered my absence, but it was long enough that I had cleared out from “civilization” wandering over the fields in great discovery. Mom frantically called the neighbors. In those days we still had the old crank telephones and a party line. So, all ya had to do was get on the phone and everybody in the neighborhood soon was alerted to the fact that “Jimmy was missing!”  
 
Don’t really know how long I was gone. But even as little as I was, I can still remember the conclusion to my little adventure. I was barefooted and ran into a sandbur patch. As I tried to get out of the stickers I sat down. There I was, stickers in my rear end and stickers in my feet. I couldn’t move and to add to my misery I noticed the sounds around me growing louder and louder. It was only the insects like locusts and grasshoppers but in my vivid imagination all I could think of was rattlesnakes!  
 
My father finally found me and gathered me up in his arms like a great hero from the days of the Roman gods and warriors. I don’t really know what they did to keep me in that yard after that. All I know is that my dislike for fences certainly didn’t go away.  
 
When it was my turn to raise a family, I moved back into that same house. One of the first things I did was to tear out that old fence. Yeah! As I sat there on the porch surveying the old farmyard with no fence to hold me back I didn’t feel the need to escape anymore. My home was my home and I could go explore any old time I felt like it. Funny thing about fences, I always want ta see what’s on the other side. 
So Long, 
The Cowboy 

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