MARK HAYTER 936-537-0918 hayter.mark@gmail.com
Hayter’s article
for February 27, 2022
‘Pa-thud -- Another Pumpkin Hit”
BACK PORCH -- Good, you finally showed up. I want you to see this. Look yonder at the base of the big pine. No the one to the right of the opening. Work with me, people! – Okay, there at the base you’ll see a pumpkin. -- Good!
Keep an eye on it while I reach behind you to get my Red Ryder 200 shot BB gun with no compass or sundial on the stock. There were only six of those made and they were for the “Christmas Story “movie. Hey, I was as disappointed as you. This is the adult Rider. That means it’s stretched to better fit manly arms. That’d be mine.
By the way, Kay got me this one for Christmas. I don’t remember what I got her, but it was just what she asked for. -- Can we get past this? -- Just stay where you are. Nobody touch it. It might hit somebody in the noggin and I’ll get sued just like on the rooftop back when Judy missed a rung on the ladder. Well, no you didn’t actually sue me, but you wanted to. Can we move along?
Okay, Here’s the gun. See? Our target is the pumpkin. Again, it’s at the base of the tree. Some of you are trying to ruin this for me. Now listen real hard. When you hear a “pa-thud”, you’ll know I hit the pumpkin. You will not see a chunk of pumpkin fly off because the thing is as hard as a Rhino’s rump. Pumpkins apparently take longer to rot than a lost Easter Egg. You could make shoes out of this thing.
Okay, everybody quiet! Here goes. “Pa-thud!” Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. One more time just to show you it wasn’t an accident. --“Pa”. Wait a minute. Obviously, there was no BB lined up at the firing place. It sometimes does that. – It does, too. – Okay, here goes. ‘Pa-thud!” See? Cool.
I may let you shoot it later, but for now, let’s enjoy the last cold spell of winter. I enjoy cold weather. Not a fan of the time between late spring and early fall. By the time August rolls around, I’ve got a serious case of the glooms. It’s no wonder that August is the only month without a holiday. For over 200 years the Congressional Calendar Committee has found nothing worth celebrating during the entire month of August.
February, the shortest month of the year, has three holidays. We celebrate groundhogs, valentines, and Presidents. February is often the coldest month of the year. It has also been categorized by some as the cruelest month of the year. And February 17 is the cruelest day of the year. It may be because of the blizzards. The worst energy infrastructure failure in Texas history occurred during February 14-17 of last year. I don’t think it made the news, but my sister Jill was out of her house for 11 months, because of that freeze. Water pipes burst, causing her floor and ceiling to flood.
I’m now going to drop my griping and make this an honorary moment for something that will not be with us tomorrow Yes, Beau, you guessed, it’s my socks. I am wearing a pair of heavy woven hiking socks that I bought for the Hayter Brothers Rocky Mountain hike back in ’87. I got about five articles out of the trip. I only mentioned my socks twice. Look at these socks! These are the warmest socks known to man. This man. I fully thought I’d be wearing them when they buried me along the trail. But, thanks to Big Al, we survived. However, since Al was the one who insisted we make the trip, I’m still upset with him.
The only things I have left from the experience are these socks and a pair of hiking boots. I outgrew my 48 pocket hiking jacket, 12 pocket shirt, and seven-pocket pants long ago. The only underwear I had left were the ones I was wearing at the end of the trail, and I was lucky to have those.
These socks, my boots, and a few sad pictures are the only remaining evidence of the debacle. I’m surprised we four Hayter brothers still talk to one another. I have worn these socks and my boots off and on for the past 35 years. Do you know how that’s possible? The boots and socks were top of the line. Plus, for the last 50 years, my feet haven’t grown. God made it possible for my ears, nose, and waist to grow. Not my feet.
So, I’m keeping the boots and letting go of the socks… only because Kay won’t let me keep them on the table by the front door. --“Welcome! See my socks?” -- Kay is way too practical. By the way, each sock has a hole in the heel. Thus the saying “Old as a hole in the heel.” The boots? I only use them as work boots and snow boots, so they’re practically good as new. However, I felt it fitting to bury the socks during the last cold spell of the winter of ’22. By tomorrow morning they shall both be gone.
But, not the pumpkin. That buddy is going to sit there until this BB gun starts making a “splat” sound instead of a “pa-thud”. All right, I’m getting a little cold out here, so everybody get in line and wait your turn to shoot my Red Ryder. You’re aiming at the pumpkin, nothing else… except maybe an armadillo. One of those things has been digging all over the yard. I don’t know what it’s looking for, but it sure isn’t pumpkins.
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