Sunday, May 25, 2008

name that crab!

I watched a World War II style bi-plane overhead this morning when it started spitting and coughing. I got concerned and walked over to get a better view. Sure enough, it was headed face down towards the ground. It was in a perfect dive to the pilots deaths. I was a little freaked out and was headed inside to ask my wife what I should do when on the way in, I noticed something poking out of a hole in the ground in the ditch in my yard which is the result of water runoff from “downtown”. I’ve gone round and round with the town about some sort of deal that they need to git dey asses down here and clean this shit out or I’ll…I’ll…well whatever...but anyway two little mini-lobster claws were reaching from the hole in the ditch and trying to put the fear of God in me when I stopped in my tracks, forgetting about the plane and decided to go in and ask my wife if she’d ever seen an inland crab. Well no she hadn’t and was quite surprised when he made another jumping swipe at HER little toe. What on Earth would it be?
I grew up on Westchester Road in Raleigh and I used to walk over to N. King Charles Road to Randy Horn’s house. He had a “crick” that divided his back yard with his neighbor’s. In that crick was a big ‘ol bunch of crawfish that we would put on little boats that also had lit firecrackers on them. Now this was my deduction, it was a crawfish…not yet blowed up of course, but crawfish nonetheless. My wife’s deduction was that THIS is where they end up when you see them digging into those holes on the beach, real crabs digging to…Bunn. Uh Huh! Who knows, but that gets me thinking about them days playin’ in that crick. MAN! That was some good ‘ol times. I hear my best friend from those days on the radio every day on an ad for his concrete company. Once he was getting his ass beat after school (down at the bridge!) and I ran like hell to #1: get away from the ass beaters and to #2: catch my ride back home with his Mom.
She asks where her son is as I’m diving in the back seat. “Uhhhhh…he’s back there getting his ass whopped, I think” I explain. Her bright red hair catches even more on fire as she’s jumping out and running to the rescue, “Ahh… some friend YOU are!”
Some of us made it and some of us didn’t. There were 2 brothers from the neighborhood, Josh and Jeff Savage. Jeff was younger and only slightly less gross than Josh. Both were brilliant and had “Jackass” been a show back then they would have been the hosts. Though I never really forgave them for making that Special Ed kid do what they made him do, nor did I forgive Josh for not taking a bath and stinking up our basement for three and a half weeks but I DO have to thank them for turning me on to that Mountain “Climbing” record. Their Dad was this ascot wearing playboy and the mother was a neurotic, chain-smoking lunatic. Josh didn’t make it, infection of the heart.
We lived on a pretty steep hill so when there was snow our neighborhood was the place to be. My buddy came over and knocked all of his teeth out on one of those curbside manhole thingys at the end of his sled run…for the year.. That was right beside where we used to catch the bus to school, right where me and Randy Horn drank three tall Schiltz’s apiece before breakfast…before school...before getting on the bus.
Ahhh… the good ‘ol days!
Randy Horn moved to Florida and Emailed me out of the blue last year and I was really glad to hear from him and how well he was doing.
Oh! There’s that bi-plane again! It’s fine. Showoff!

1 comment:

Jeff Hart said...

i was once in a cessna two or three seater when we did one of those
dive maneuvers. my former
bandmate was or still is
a flight instructor. they
have to know how to get out of those
spins. to see the earth
spinning down below like
that is something you won't
soon forget.