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D. Wright wrote a new post, My Cousin the Arsonist 9 years, 8 months ago
The summer before I began my junior year of college, I spent many nights playing video games at my oldest cousin’s home. Most of my cousins were over there as well, and we would stay up until the break of dawn […]
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D. Wright wrote a new post, ‘We Were Like Ninjas in the Night’ 9 years, 8 months ago
It was the summer of my sixteenth year, and because most my friends and I had already earned our driver’s license, we decided to go camping down a backroad somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. One of my […]
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haha. We did stuff like this as kids too. One time we decided to go camping when it was like -20 degrees. We couldn’t get a fire started so we ate cold spaghetti-ohs out of the can. Our one friend had a military issued sleeping bag, so he was nice and warm, and my other friend and I were cuddled up next to him. haha. We only lasted half the night and ended up back at my one friends house. But, because he was so warm AND sweating from being in the military sleeping bag, he froze when we decided to run back to his house.
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D. Wright wrote a new post, The Family Vacation Where I Wouldn’t Stop Embarrassing My Mother 9 years, 8 months ago
Growing up, family vacations were rare. Because we had so many responsibilities on the family farm year-round, vacationing was usually out of the question. We went on the bulk of our vacations when my sister and I were still in Elementary school when my family didn’t have as many responsibilities. As it grew, the responsibly between all of us began to grow, and for a span of nine years, we never had a chance to go on a vacation.
Before I graduated high school, my family announced we were actually going to get a chance to go on a vacation. I suppose since I was about to begin college and thus the next step in my life, my parents felt this would be one of the last times we would get to spend a vacation together as a family. They told us we would be going to the vacation destination where most of my hometown frequented every year: Branson, Missouri. It was the most unoriginal choice my parents could have made – the equivalent of someone in Arizona choosing to vacation at the Grand Canyon.
But I didn’t care. Branson had its moments, and because I hadn’t been on a vacation in nearly a decade, the destination didn’t matter: I just wanted to leave the state for once!
I had also learned a lot since our last family vacation. For starters, I had discovered long ago that it was easy to embarrass my mother in public; too easy, in fact. Her face would get red, she would look noticeably irritated, and she would get furious if anyone even remotely embarrassed her in a public place. To the rest of my family this was hilarious – especially since none of us are easily embarrassed in public to begin with.
Thus, I decided that if this was going to be our last traditional family vacation, I was going to make it as memorable as possible. In my mind, the best way to do this was to embarrass my mom every chance I had. Looking back, it was definitely a mean-spirited thing to do, but at the time? Nothing seemed more right.
We arrived at Branson late afternoon. We unpacked our bags at the hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, and wanted to kill some time before we headed back to the hotel. We spotted a mini golf course on the side of the road (these are littered throughout Branson), and because my father loves golf, he decided we should all play. I too enjoy golf, so this was music to my ears.
I also noticed the mini golf course was packed, to which a lightbulb went off in my head: this would be the perfect place to begin my week of embarrassing my mother. It was.
I waited until we were on the third hole. A lot of people were behind us already, and lots of people were playing ahead so if I made even the slightest commotion, people would notice us. I walked over to the large, plastic safari animals lined up between the third and fourth hole and began pretending to kiss and passionately rub the back of the gorilla, the neck of the giraffe, and the trunk of the elephant. This went on for about a minute until people walking across from us on the sidewalk stopped to stare at me and the golfers in the vicinity began to laugh at my ruckus, and once my mom saw what I was doing? She was horrified.
“What are you doing?!” she screamed, “you’re in public.”
“Just waiting on my turn,” I replied.
She was annoyed, but she dropped it. Around the sixth hole there was a lot hill, and I decided to get into a ball and roll down it across the greenery of the course. I made sure she saw this, and when I began my walk back up the hill? Her face was redder than I had ever seen it.As the week continued, I would embarrass my mom sporadically. It didn’t happen all the time – only a few times per day, and nothing too embarrassing either. It kept us all laughing the entire week – save for my mom, of course. Nevertheless, we had a great vacation, and when my mom looks back on it now? She agrees that yes, causing her nonstop embarrassment that vacation was indeed hilarious.
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D. Wright wrote a new post, My First (Goof Off) Summer Job 9 years, 9 months ago
Although I had sporadically worked with my father on our family farm for most of my life – doing chores, working alongside him on various projects, etc. – I had my first real job when I was 17 years old. My parents had been constantly telling me to go out and get a real job, but I wasn’t interested. In my mind, I knew I would eventually work for the rest of my life anyway, so why rush into it when I still had the freedom to enjoy my youth? In my mind, as long as I could earn enough money for fuel by mowing my grandmother’s lawn or earning my keep by lightening my father’s workload, that’s all I really needed.
Then I learned about a temporary summer job remodeling my town’s local Walmart. I would only work from 9am to 5pm Monday through Friday, and I would get two hour (paid) lunch breaks to boot. It would be a great way to earn a lot of extra money in a short span of time, and when I found out most of my high school friends already got the job? I was all in. It would be like hanging out with my friends at work and getting paid for it!
I applied and was interviewed immediately. Within a week, I learned I had been chosen for the position, and started a week later. I thought the job was going to be one big party, but in reality? Yeah, it was pretty much one big party!
Although we stayed on task and finished our work every day, we goofed off as much as possible. On one occasion, a friend and I worked in the hardware department and had to install new shelves (which we painted in an old dog food factory a few times per week). From there, we had to organize the merchandise and apply the appropriate price tags on said shelves. We were telling jokes and working, until we found that one of the big boxes of merchandise we had to display was full of rubber mallets.
The result? We got into a huge rubber mallet fight every time we were alone in the hardware department – which was most of the day since we were stuck in the back of the tiny Walmart during a weekday afternoon. By the end of the day, we had so many bruises all over our bodies from hitting one another with the rubber mallets that my parents thought I got into a fight at work.
“No,” I replied, “we were just hitting one another with rubber mallets all day.”
After we had finished the remodel, it was time for a grand reopening of the store. A man an hour away brought a few mascot suits for some of the workers to wear during the day to interact with the customers throughout the day. One of the suits was a Keebler elf suit, and because I’m a shorter guy, I knew I had to wear it.
So I did, and I preceded to chase around children all day, kneel to one knee in the middle of the store with my arms spread and two packages of Keebler-brand cookies in my hands screaming, “who wants some of my cookies,” in a creepy, demonic voice several times per day, and generally make the entire store feel uncomfortable all day. Another friend and I, whom was in an M&M outfit, even staged a fist fight in the middle of the store’s reopening ceremony. Surprisingly, nobody was really angry.
Looking back, I was probably an annoyance to some of the adults at the store that summer – as were my other friends. But it was summer, we were young, and collectively, we wanted to make the most of the summer. It was my first real job, and oddly enough, one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.
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I want to be a kid again!
My first job was at WalMart too. I sold hunting and fishing license. (And guns). I used to call the FBI for background checks. They had an official ‘A-Alpha, B-Bravo, C-Charlie’ format for giving back confirmation codes…. One time I made my own up. ‘M-Marshmallow, S-Snickers, T-Twix’. I don’t think she was supposed to break her authoritative demeanor, but I got the FBI phone ‘agent’ to laugh once.
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Hahaha I can so relate to this!!! Can’t we all though? 🙂
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D. Wright‘s profile was updated 9 years, 9 months ago
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D. Wright wrote a new post, My First Automobile, My First Taste of Freedom 9 years, 9 months ago
I had just earned my driver’s license approximately six months before my 16th birthday in the summer of 2002. Because I would be able to drive on my birthday, I began to search around the classified pages of our local newspaper trying to spot a vehicle for sale. It became a ritual, and for a few weeks it was touch-and-go. One June afternoon, my father arrived from work and told me he had spotted a 1987 Nissan pickup that was in immaculate condition. We took a look at the truck that evening, and I knew it was the vehicle for me. The truck didn’t have a lot of perks: no power windows, the stereo didn’t work – it didn’t even have power steering! I didn’t care: it would be my truck – my first taste of true freedom.
Unfortunately, the price was a bit steep. Add to the fact that our family finances were not in the best shape at the moment, and it looked as if I wouldn’t be getting the truck after all. I understood. As much as it crushed me, I knew the previous winter had hurt our poultry farm financially, and my father’s siding business was in a slump. My father told me he was sorry, I said it was okay and I knew a new lead would present itself eventually, and that was the last time we talked about the pickup for a few weeks.
Fast-forward to the end of July. My grandmother was dropping me off at my home while my parents were away. They were at a dinner, and since I had been playing basketball all day with my cousins, I had missed them as they left. It was okay: I had a key to my garage and the backdoor of my home, so I knew I could walk inside.
What I saw in the garage made my jaw drop: there sat the pickup I had been wanting for weeks! I couldn’t believe it: here sat a truck – my truck – ready for me to drive the moment I turned 16.
I asked my father when he returned later that night why he chose to purchase the pickup despite the year’s financial hardships.
“Because you showed maturity when you didn’t get what you wanted,” he said. “I was so impressed that I wanted to reward you with the truck; to show you that goodness and maturity always pays off in the long run.”
It was a pickup wrapped in a life lesson, and even though I sold the truck years ago, remnants of the truck still stick with me today via the lesson my father taught me that July evening.
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I remember my first car. I bought it last minute so I could take my girlfriend to homecoming. haha. It was only $500, had 180,000 miles on it but it lasted me over 5 years. Hondas run forever. haha.
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D. Wright became a registered member 9 years, 9 months ago
I used to visit my grandparents on the weekends, and they had a neighbor kid about my age. Their back yard was mostly woods and a small river. We would always take our bb guns back and shoot litter that had traveled down from … I’m assuming, Lake Erie.
One day, while his dad was gone, we decided to play with his gun-powder. We’d poor it into a coffee can, catch some paper on fire and drop it in and… POOF! About the 4th or 5th go at it…. drop the paper in, and ……….. ……….. ……… no poof. “It was a dud, Bobby. Go grab the paper out of it and we’ll do it again.” Bobby goes to reach in for the paper….. POOF!
We had to explain to his parents why Bobby didn’t have eyebrows. haha.
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