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Dorothy Boatz's Memories



Columnist Dorothy Boatz

You see, Dave, it's like this! What goes around comes aroundand, in your case, I feel that the ingenuity you displayed in your earlyescapades deserves publicity. In other words, you are getting your justdesserts, and I am getting even. I'm sure that there are numerous episodesthat never came to my attention when they happened - for which I am grateful- but since I can no longer send you to bed without your supper or threatenyou with reform school, you have no need to worry - as if you ever did worryabout anything!

Just today, I recalled an incident that took place whenyour older brother, Mick, was 5 1/2 years old and your were 4. A babysittertold you in detail the story of the Crucifixion, and you were so impressedby it that you decided to crucify Mick. You managed to find to boards and,with hammer and nails pilfered from your dad's toolbox, you proceeded tonail him to a crudely constructed cross. In intervened just in time to preventbloodshed. You were penalized as usual, but in this case it was Mick whoadministered the punishment. He found a gallon of white paint on our backporch and persuaded you to sit still while he gave you a "facial."He applied a lavish coat of paint to your face, neck and hair, leaving onlytwo small holes for you to view the results in a mirror. Your dad and Iwere not happy with the cleanup process, especially since the paint hadhardened to a point where easy removal wasn't possible. Consequently, yousported a spiked hairdo long before it became fashionable. But you enjoyedbeing the center of attention in a neighborhood where kids your age didn'tnormally wear makeup or weird hairstyles.

Do you remember the time you announced your intention torun away from home? I did not argue with your decision and even offeredto pack a lunch for you to eat on the way. Your feelings were noticeablyhurt when there was no shocked reaction or pleading on my part to reconsider.You took the lunch, walked 10 feet from the house, sat down by a lamppost,ate the lunch, and returned to the fold minutes later. That ended any furtherthreats to run away, although we may have suggested it from time to time.

There was also that time that you and K. F. (as in KeithFinney) decided to have a contest to see who could get the muddiest. Aftera heavy rainfall in our little unpaved village, there was more than enoughmud to guarantee full coverage. Later, when you both came to divest yourselfof mud, I refused you admittance. You remained homeless for the better partof an afternoon until Keith's mother sympathized with your plight and letyou clean up at her house.

Oh, there's more, but I've used up my space allotment fornow and will have to continue this vendetta in a future column. After all,the "public has a right to know" and I love to tell them!

to know" and I love to tell them!