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Saturday, April 19, 2008

The Mighty Mite

When I was a kid I was a brat! There is no denying it. I was tall for my age and loved to pick a fight. I knew that if things got tough and I was loosing the fight all I needed to do was call my dog George and say the magic words, "Sic em George" and I would remain the reigning champion of the block.

I wasn't afraid of anyone especially if I was taller then them. Remember I said I was a brat. But one day I got to full of myself and met my match.

Even though I was the youngest of three children you might as well have said I was an only child because my brother was 10 years older then me and my sister was 9 years older. But there's the rub. My brother spoiled me like I was his own child by the time he got to high school. I could do no wrong around him. (well except say I wanted to be a WAVE in the Navy when I grew up. But that's another story.) As for my sister, well lets just say, her closet of clothes might as well have been mine.

Yes she was older then me but she was 4' 10" to my 5' by the time I had reached the 6th grade.
Poor Gloria. She would be at school and I would be going through her clothes to see what I wanted to wear to mine. Of course I had to role up her skirts to fit my skinny frame and I would stuff socks into her shoes (I bet you thought I stuffed them some place else) to make them fit my feet.

And off to school I would go. Of course in an ordinary day I would maybe have one or two fights and was alway racing around the yard so you can only imagine what her clothes looked like by the time I slipped them back into her side of the closet. Especially the one day I stayed late after school to play with the kids and took the shortcut across the school yard and climbed the fence only to find I could not get my leg over the wire gate without ripping the skirt to give me that extra bit of leverage.

So I think it was finding her clothes ripped and dirty, that might have set her off that night. Heaven knows she had nobody to defend her when it came to my shenanigans. (And that is another sad story) We were doing the dishes and I was, as usual, drying them as she always made me dry and that always made me mad.

After she had washed, cleaned the stove, swept and mopped the floor while I was putting the dishes away, she told me to take the garbage downstairs to the rubbish can. That was it for me. It was bad enough I had to dry the dishes and now she was making me empty the trash.

I looked down on this tiny little frame of a girl and told her straight out, no! She started to shove me and I shoved back, she wasn't about to make me do it. The next thing I knew, the door to the basement opened, I was flying down the stairs with the garbage on top of me. Next to me sat George who knew the hand that fed him.

All the hate, abuse and neglect came spilling out of my sister that night. Of course I was to young to know that. I wished I had, but I didn't. But I sure did have a new respect for her. Not only had she thrown me down the stairs she had knocked me off my pedestal. From that day on I never towered over her again.

2 comments:

  1. HEY AUNT KAREN I ENJOYED TOUR STORY IT MADE ME LAUGH HOW WHEN YOU SAID THAT YOU WERE A BRAT.LOL
    ♥LISA


    HI AUT KAREN THIS IS ME VAL.MY MOM TOLD ME THIS STORY LIKE A MILLON TIMES.HAHA♥VAL

    ReplyDelete
  2. I bet that made your mom feel good. I think it was the only time that she really got her revenge on me.

    ReplyDelete

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Do you want to know about Hawaii from a locals point of view? Where do we like to go? What things do we like to see. This blog is about seeing Hawaii without being trapped. This is a journal about Good eats, Hawaiian events, and looking at the islands through the eyes of someone who has lived here for more then forty years.

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