Independence Day Escapades

I trust that you will have a safe and blessed Fourth of July.  After the Fourth most of us will be recovering from bulging bellies and thunder thighs from too much barbeque, potato salad, baked beans, and peach clobber; from aching pains and soreness from volleyball, pitching horseshoes, playing softball, and swimming which is really arthritic flare-up and gout caused by uric acid overload from too much watermelon, cantaloupe, and pork; and from sunburn from showing too much skin and applying too little sunscreen.

When I think of celebrating a safe Fourth of July, I think of my cousin, Stevie.  My aunt threatened to lock him in a room taking away his Independence Day.  Stevie was an accident waiting to happen during pre-teen and teenage years.

One Fourth he aggravated Grandmoe Chapman’s dog one too many times.  Rover was Grandmoe’s mutt and trusted “guard dawg”. On this particular Fourth, Rover got even by biting a hole in Stevie’s lip.  This meant a quick trip to Dr. Joe Moore in Clanton.  Stevie got stitches and a shot. 

Another Fourth Stevie was playing with a step ladder.  The ladder collapsed almost severing fingers from both hands.  It was another quick trip to see Dr. Joe for stitches and another shot.

On another Fourth we were working on an old rear engine Chevy Corvair.  It had one fan belt that looped from the top down around the side and the back bottom of the engine through a series of pulleys.

Stevie and my brothers were watching the belt trying to diagnose a squeak.  They told me to bump the engine (that’s a Chilton County for turning without starting).  I bumped it and they yelled for me to stop.  Stevie was pointing at a pulley just as I bumped it and his fingers went between the belt and the pulley.

You probably have guessed it by now.  When I went to see the commotion, Stevie had two fingers dangling and one finger with a compound fracture.  I told daddy we needed to carry Stevie to the doctor.  He asked how bad the fingers were.  I said, “Bad.”  I had wrapped them and would not let Stevie see them.  When dad saw them he said, “Let’s go.”  My dad and I loaded up in my hot rod Cutlass Supreme and raced to none other than Dr. Joe.

Dr. Joe shook his head as he filled a shot.  He had a few choice words for Stevie and commenced to set the fractured finger and sew the other two back together and hoped Stevie did not lose them.  Stevie never cried through the whole ordeal until Dr. Joe stuck his fingers to deaden them for surgery.  My aunt had a few choice words for Stevie when we returned him home.

It gets better.  One Fourth Stevie and my brothers decided they would make their own fireworks.  They found out that if you mixed red-devil lye with aluminum foil and water it created helium.  Their scheme was to put the material in a coke bottle and trap the helium in balloons.  They put balloons on the mouth of the bottles.  For fireworks they would remove the balloons, tie rags on the balloons, and light the rags with a lighter.  Rising high over the Chilton County sky the balloons exploded with brilliant colors.

It was so successful that they expanded their experiment.  More aluminum foil, red-devil lye, and water would make a bigger explosion.  It did.  The coke bottle exploded and melting aluminum went everywhere.  Stevie received the most.  Dancing an Indian rain dance for relief, my brothers and another cousin tried spraying water on Stevie’s brightly glowing legs and shorts.  Water was a no no because water is the catalyst to start the chemical reaction.  It spread the concoction and Stevie made another trip to Dr. Joe.  At least there were no stitches, only gauze and cream for burns.

Stevie had one more bad Fourth.  Two other cousins and he went to the local store for fireworks.  No more concoctions.  The sun was setting as Stevie and his cousin left the store on a Yamaha motorcycle.  They stopped to shoot some fireworks.  Stevie, sitting on the back heard the other cousin leave the store on his 750 Honda.  He was winding it out.  This cousin wore glasses and had difficulty seeing at night.

Stevie screamed, “He can’t see us!”  They took off trying to get out of the way.  For a cousin that could not see, he hit the motorcycle dead center of the rear tire pushing the rear tire into the engine of the bike and forcing the front tire of the bike into the 750 engine.  Bikes locked together, the trio slid around seventy-five feet up the highway.  One cousin was bruised, one had a bleeding arm, and Stevie had rocks embedded in his buttocks.  He slid on gravel which ate through pants, underwear, and skin.  My aunt had a few more choice words as she used a pair of tweezers to remove the rocks and then a trip to Dr. Joe where he placed Stevie head down and filled his rear end with Ivory soap to remove tar, dirt, and gravel and prep for another shot.  He did not have stitches but our other cousin had forty-five or more on his arm.

 A prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished (Proverbs 22:3 - KJV).

I am glad God watches over us, especially Stevie growing up.

I am your Creator. You were in my care even before you were born (Isaiah 44:2a - CEV).