Dec. 16, 2001 - 21:57 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

There

I was probably as brash as the next kid, venturing wide happily. When we went on a picnic it was in the hills, often in one of the Denver Mountain Parks.

Usually we would unload and then eat. Then would come the time that I loved the most. Begging my folks permission, I would transform myself into a rugged Mountian Man or an Explorer, all in capital letters of course and mentally too, and head bravely into the unknown (to me that is).

It was fun when my cousins were along as we all liked to split with full bellies. I remember on one expedition we kids were climbing a fairly steep grade wending our way through the rocks making up stories about what we were doing and having great fun. After spending some time at the top we stayed as long as we thought time would let us, we finally headed back down. A steep grade was a bit hard going up but it seemed harder going back down. There were patches where there was loose dirt. We were in one such area that smarty me decided to walk out on a rock and jump down. It was easy for me to see that it was about four feet down. I jumped. All went well, except, there was a cactus there too. One of the traditional western cactii with flat oval parts joined to others, except, my feet slid in the dirt and I went butt down into the cactus. Ugh, it smarted a bit too. I gingerly made my back down to where the folks were. I was a very quiet shrinking violet, bothered too much to sit down, I would lean with my elbows on a picnic table and watch what was going on.

One of my cousins told their mother what had happened. Shucks, darn it anyhow, I spent the rest of the afternoon up there with my dignity shattered spread across the laps of Mom and auntie having the spines plucked out of my bare bottom. Had an appreciative audience too. It came time to head back to town and I was loaded into uncle's car and spread across aunt and oldest girl cousin's knees and the plucking continued all the way back to town with the accompanying teasing by the other three cousins. When we got back to town I was a pitiful looking dude, red at both ends and sore on one. The mohair seats on dad's car only gave me a hint of the discomfort I would endure 'til the last of those darn spines festered out.

Ever after, before I would jump I first would check out my landing spot to see what was There . . . . . . .

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