esrosedotblog

CONFESSION

This article reminded me of a time when I was a boy playing with matches.

Boy With Matches Started One California Fire, Officials Say

I was pretty much a latch key kid.

My parents both worked. I was often on my own after school.

On school holidays my Mom would take me along with her to work in a big general store and I would hang out around the store and in the neighborhood.

This is probably when I was 10.

Most of the time, I played with Phil Price who lived across the street from the store.

Phil, a year younger than me, was a hell raiser and we were pretty good friends all the way through school. Some of the best adventures I had as a kid were with Phil.

I think that I learned a lot from him that has helped me not take 'authority' too seriously.

One day we were fooling around and (I am sure it was Phil) had the idea that we could go to an upper field and have a camp fire.

I don't particularly remember that it was cold or anything but maybe. It was windy.

You can see this coming can't you? We couldn't.

I would do about anything that Phil thought of and so we went and stole some matches from his house (I do remember that his family had 'farmer'matches, the kind that you just struck on a rock. We had safety matches at our house; a lot less interesting).

There was a stone wall and a brush line along the field and this is where we set up shop.

I don't remember the details but we did start a little fire and then, remember it was windy, it got away from us. The field was dry and it caught quickly.

We ran.

Phil went to tell his Dad, and I went to the store, running hard, then walking in casually. I didn't say anything about the fire.

I didn't have to. It was engulfing the field.

Soon the volunteer fire company came and put it out.

Nothing burned much. No one was hurt except for Phil who got a licking from his Dad who, if I remember, was always a little proud of Phil's exploits so the thrashing wasn't ever that bad.

I said nothing.

I am sure that Phil's Dad knew I was involved and maybe he said something to me about it. But he never told my mother who remained oblivious.

Unlike Phil's Dad, my Mom was so sure of my goodness that she rarely even suspected that I had anything to do with 'trouble'.

I was a spoiled little bastard.

I remember Phil fondly. He took the rap for me and never complained. We remained friends for many years up to the time I left town to go to college.

He was a skinny little kid and I do remember that he grew up to be a strikingly handsome man. Trustworthy. A solid citizen.

He worked for my Dad at the A&P for awhile.

We would occasionally see each other and grin over past times. A friendship forged in fire.

Labels: nostalgia