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Get off my LAWN! "Grumpy Old Farts"
- Thread starter B-string
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Ruefully funny, but true.
When I was in elementary school, my father gave me the little pocket knife his grandfather had given to him. I kept it in my jeans pocket, because it's a pocket knife, of course. Every boy in school had one, and presumably, had been instructed in their responsible handling and use by their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, etc. No one was missing fingers or eyeballs, no knife fights in the schoolyard. It was just a small tool you had in your pocket, like your comb, or maybe a house key. No big deal in a far-flung little mountain town.
Well, one day at school, we were doing some "tumbling" exercises (somersaulting with supervision) in PE class, and unbeknownst to me, my knife fell out of my pocket. After PE was over, I went back to my classroom. I barely even had time to sit down at my desk when I was summoned to the principal's office. I made the long walk up the hallway, wondering what I was in for. There at the front desk stood the principal, a towering man with a thick black beard and permanently stern expression that made him look like he might have had some partial parentage by a bear.
"Mr. Winslow..." he intoned gravely, as he held up his hand, inexplicably holding my knife, "Is this yours?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Looks like you dropped it in PE class."
"Yes sir," I replied, "I guess I did."
"Make sure you hang onto that." he said, handing it back to me.
"Yes sir," I said, putting it back into my pocket.
"All right. Go on back to class."
"Yes sir," and I did.
And that was that.
No phone calls of concern to my parents, no notes in a disciplinary record, no long, hushed discussions with the school nurse.
These days, of course, there would be a S.W.A.T. team called out, a "lockdown" declared, psychological intervention for every living creature within a five-mile radius, emergency revocation of parental rights by court-appointed social workers, and breathless "news" coverage of a CHIIIllILD BRINGING A DEADLY WEAPON TO SCHOOL!!!!
O, how much Glorious Progress we have made.
I mostly agree, but it seems these days kids are not taught responsibility and there are some who would start a knife fight. So, yeah, "progress".Ruefully funny, but true.
When I was in elementary school, my father gave me the little pocket knife his grandfather had given to him. I kept it in my jeans pocket, because it's a pocket knife, of course. Every boy in school had one, and presumably, had been instructed in their responsible handling and use by their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, etc. No one was missing fingers or eyeballs, no knife fights in the schoolyard. It was just a small tool you had in your pocket, like your comb, or maybe a house key. No big deal in a far-flung little mountain town.
Well, one day at school, we were doing some "tumbling" exercises (somersaulting with supervision) in PE class, and unbeknownst to me, my knife fell out of my pocket. After PE was over, I went back to my classroom. I barely even had time to sit down at my desk when I was summoned to the principal's office. I made the long walk up the hallway, wondering what I was in for. There at the front desk stood the principal, a towering man with a thick black beard and permanently stern expression that made him look like he might have had some partial parentage by a bear.
"Mr. Winslow..." he intoned gravely, as he held up his hand, inexplicably holding my knife, "Is this yours?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Looks like you dropped it in PE class."
"Yes sir," I replied, "I guess I did."
"Make sure you hang onto that." he said, handing it back to me.
"Yes sir," I said, putting it back into my pocket.
"All right. Go on back to class."
"Yes sir," and I did.
And that was that.
No phone calls of concern to my parents, no notes in a disciplinary record, no long, hushed discussions with the school nurse.
These days, of course, there would be a S.W.A.T. team called out, a "lockdown" declared, psychological intervention for every living creature within a five-mile radius, emergency revocation of parental rights by court-appointed social workers, and breathless "news" coverage of a CHIIIllILD BRINGING A DEADLY WEAPON TO SCHOOL!!!!
O, how much Glorious Progress we have made.
Or what appears to be masking tape. Scoll about halfway down the page.
Phil FANG Volk's Official Home Page
My 10th birthday present from my father was a brand-new Barlow pocket knife with bone handles, along with the obligatory cautions, etc. I was enjoined from taking it to school, however. It went everywhere else. I stopped routinely carrying it many years ago, and it now resides in my top dresser drawer along with Dad's boyhood-adult-old age pocket knife. Nobody thought a thing of a kid carrying a pocket knife 58 years ago.Ruefully funny, but true.
When I was in elementary school, my father gave me the little pocket knife his grandfather had given to him. I kept it in my jeans pocket, because it's a pocket knife, of course. Every boy in school had one, and presumably, had been instructed in their responsible handling and use by their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, etc. No one was missing fingers or eyeballs, no knife fights in the schoolyard. It was just a small tool you had in your pocket, like your comb, or maybe a house key. No big deal in a far-flung little mountain town.
Well, one day at school, we were doing some "tumbling" exercises (somersaulting with supervision) in PE class, and unbeknownst to me, my knife fell out of my pocket. After PE was over, I went back to my classroom. I barely even had time to sit down at my desk when I was summoned to the principal's office. I made the long walk up the hallway, wondering what I was in for. There at the front desk stood the principal, a towering man with a thick black beard and permanently stern expression that made him look like he might have had some partial parentage by a bear.
"Mr. Winslow..." he intoned gravely, as he held up his hand, inexplicably holding my knife, "Is this yours?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Looks like you dropped it in PE class."
"Yes sir," I replied, "I guess I did."
"Make sure you hang onto that." he said, handing it back to me.
"Yes sir," I said, putting it back into my pocket.
"All right. Go on back to class."
"Yes sir," and I did.
And that was that.
No phone calls of concern to my parents, no notes in a disciplinary record, no long, hushed discussions with the school nurse.
These days, of course, there would be a S.W.A.T. team called out, a "lockdown" declared, psychological intervention for every living creature within a five-mile radius, emergency revocation of parental rights by court-appointed social workers, and breathless "news" coverage of a CHIIIllILD BRINGING A DEADLY WEAPON TO SCHOOL!!!!
O, how much Glorious Progress we have made.
Sixty years ago, my father gave me a switch blade knife. He didn't have to caution me on how and where to use it. I took it fishing and camping. I had no reason, in my mind, to take it to school. With today's youth, that would not be advisable or, some cases, legal.
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,167
- 256,949
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
Sharp things, pointy things, and sharp and pointy things were outside of my childhood reality sphere. Explodey things, too. Horses, on the other hand .... And considering if you're around horses long enough, you'll be shoved, stomped, swatted, kicked, bitten, knocked, and thrown eventually — so I guess it works out even.
I was given a smaller verion of a Swiss Army Knife as a present somewhen... well, basically it's sort of a multi-tool, and I used it exactly as such 
(But I never carved a desk
)
(But I never carved a desk
)
I graduated in '72 and there were very few guys in my school that didn't carry a knife. A knife was a handy, versatile tool that was sometimes needed. I never knew of one being used as a weapon. Of course, there was an occasional difference of opinion that led to a fight but after a bloody nose or a black eye things were back to "business as usual."Ruefully funny, but true.
When I was in elementary school, my father gave me the little pocket knife his grandfather had given to him. I kept it in my jeans pocket, because it's a pocket knife, of course. Every boy in school had one, and presumably, had been instructed in their responsible handling and use by their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, etc. No one was missing fingers or eyeballs, no knife fights in the schoolyard. It was just a small tool you had in your pocket, like your comb, or maybe a house key. No big deal in a far-flung little mountain town.
Well, one day at school, we were doing some "tumbling" exercises (somersaulting with supervision) in PE class, and unbeknownst to me, my knife fell out of my pocket. After PE was over, I went back to my classroom. I barely even had time to sit down at my desk when I was summoned to the principal's office. I made the long walk up the hallway, wondering what I was in for. There at the front desk stood the principal, a towering man with a thick black beard and permanently stern expression that made him look like he might have had some partial parentage by a bear.
"Mr. Winslow..." he intoned gravely, as he held up his hand, inexplicably holding my knife, "Is this yours?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Looks like you dropped it in PE class."
"Yes sir," I replied, "I guess I did."
"Make sure you hang onto that." he said, handing it back to me.
"Yes sir," I said, putting it back into my pocket.
"All right. Go on back to class."
"Yes sir," and I did.
And that was that.
No phone calls of concern to my parents, no notes in a disciplinary record, no long, hushed discussions with the school nurse.
These days, of course, there would be a S.W.A.T. team called out, a "lockdown" declared, psychological intervention for every living creature within a five-mile radius, emergency revocation of parental rights by court-appointed social workers, and breathless "news" coverage of a CHIIIllILD BRINGING A DEADLY WEAPON TO SCHOOL!!!!
O, how much Glorious Progress we have made.
That was his thing, he’d flip the bass over at various times during the show. He used electrical tape. Everyone in the band had a nickname. Because of his front teeth, Paul suggested Bucky Beaver, then Bugs, they went with Fang. It got him a lot of publicity and camera time.
Some interesting trivia. Paul Revere's real name was Paul Dick. Their producer was Terry Melcher, he was Doris Day's son. He was established in the music business but also had encounters with Charles Manson. Manson hung out at his place and he turned Manson down for a record deal, then he left the house with his girlfriend Candice Bergman. The property owner rented the house to Roman Polanski where the Manson murders took place.
Terry Melcher
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,167
- 256,949
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
My sister never wholly got over that the Manson murders happened on her birthday 
Speaking of murders (a weird phrase I never thought I'd use)...
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I always carried a pocket knife as a kid. To this day, I have a collection of them that are used mostly for opening letters and packages. I do have one from Lee Valley Tools for eating fruit outside.
My sister never wholly got over that the Manson murders happened on her birthday
You've got the space shuttle event to haunt your day.
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,167
- 256,949
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
- Oct 22, 2015
- 21,167
- 256,949
- Disclosures
- I am an affiliate for Ari Cap.
Ruefully funny, but true.
When I was in elementary school, my father gave me the little pocket knife his grandfather had given to him. I kept it in my jeans pocket, because it's a pocket knife, of course. Every boy in school had one, and presumably, had been instructed in their responsible handling and use by their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, etc. No one was missing fingers or eyeballs, no knife fights in the schoolyard. It was just a small tool you had in your pocket, like your comb, or maybe a house key. No big deal in a far-flung little mountain town.
Well, one day at school, we were doing some "tumbling" exercises (somersaulting with supervision) in PE class, and unbeknownst to me, my knife fell out of my pocket. After PE was over, I went back to my classroom. I barely even had time to sit down at my desk when I was summoned to the principal's office. I made the long walk up the hallway, wondering what I was in for. There at the front desk stood the principal, a towering man with a thick black beard and permanently stern expression that made him look like he might have had some partial parentage by a bear.
"Mr. Winslow..." he intoned gravely, as he held up his hand, inexplicably holding my knife, "Is this yours?"
"Yes sir, it is."
"Looks like you dropped it in PE class."
"Yes sir," I replied, "I guess I did."
"Make sure you hang onto that." he said, handing it back to me.
"Yes sir," I said, putting it back into my pocket.
"All right. Go on back to class."
"Yes sir," and I did.
And that was that.
No phone calls of concern to my parents, no notes in a disciplinary record, no long, hushed discussions with the school nurse.
These days, of course, there would be a S.W.A.T. team called out, a "lockdown" declared, psychological intervention for every living creature within a five-mile radius, emergency revocation of parental rights by court-appointed social workers, and breathless "news" coverage of a CHIIIllILD BRINGING A DEADLY WEAPON TO SCHOOL!!!!
O, how much Glorious Progress we have made.
There are kids — who will always be kids — and the teachers who are on to them.
As shared with me over coffee one fine morning when we take coffee together in the morning sunshine ...
There was nothing to suggest a book at the school library would be of any particular interest to anyone. The glaring boringness of the book is exactly what drew the librarian's attention as she notices a lot of kids are borrowing it.
Some enterprising students (male, incidentally, just had to add that) designated the book as their dead drop for 420 kids.
Recreational explodey things were illegal in Georgia...
...so we made sure to stock up any time we were in [Invalid or Expired Link Removed].
It's a pity they did away with the old [Invalid or Expired Link Removed], but I bet that was [heck] to maintain.
Quite.
They actually checked it out?? Rookie mistake.
Or, so might be said by those with a disposition toward greater discretion.
I always carried a pocket knife as a kid. To this day, I have a collection of them that are used mostly for opening letters and packages. I do have one from Lee Valley Tools for eating fruit outside.
Tres elegante, beanie. But I have more, uh ... wide ranging needs.
I'd rather be a dog.
You and me, both, beans. You and me both.
.
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