When he was 9, my dad found a .22 lying on the table and
carried it outside while Norvel and Dorris were arguing. There was some
movement in the tree next to the sheep pen, so he shot over to the tree, aimed,
and pulled the trigger. He’d hit an adult squirrel.
“Dad, I
shot a squirrel!” he told Norvel proudly.
“You didn’t
shoot no damn squirrel.”
“I did,
he’s a’right over there!” he pointed to the small tree by the pen.
“Well
alright. Go grab him and skin him down then,” said Norvel as he handed Kevin a
gutting knife. Kevin ran back to the tree, climbed halfway up, found the
squirrel and grabbed it. It was still alive. It wasn’t alive after it hit the
ground though, and Kevin diligently skinned it and handed over the pelt to
Norvel. He was pleased.
“Alright,
now why don’t you run down into Peoli and grab me some smokes?” asked Novel. So
Kevin stood on his tippy-toes to grab the keys from the hook, started up the old red farm-truck and
drove into town for cigarettes.
***
Kevin was
16 when he started to experience puberty. He only got the muscles though, so he
was still five-foot-five with no facial hair and a baby face. Out in the Peoli
farm country, the hills are steep and the flat ground is sparse. Kevin and his
brother Kyle would run full-bore down the steepest hills they could find,
always challenging each other. As the youngest Kevin felt obligated to win
every dare. They would run closer and closer to wooden and wire fences before
sliding to a halt, and then one day, Kevin didn’t stop. He tucked in a front
flipped right over the wooden farming fence and just kept running. He’d bet
Kyle he could catch the deer out in the distance. He chased it relentlessly
into the nearby patch of woods. He lost it for a second, cut through some
bushes, and burst out into the small green clearing. Directly in front of him
stood the deer—a large buck with massive and elegant horns. Instinctively,
Kevin shot out his arm and grabbed hold of the nearest horn. The buck jumped
into the air with all four hoofs off the ground, came down planted, and jerked
his horn out of Kevin’s hand with an unparalleled force. Kevin reeled back, and
the buck dropped to its knees and army-crawled through a patch of bushes. Kyle
came up running from behind and never believed a word of it. Later, Kevin
dumped a bucket of tar on him with Vince’s help. They all got covered, and
Doris scrubbed them red and raw in a bathtub full of gasoline.
***
People say
Mom looked like me when she was young. At 16, she was 111 pounds of scrawny,
with long, bushy red hair. In all the pictures I see, she wears a familiar
goofy grin. Kim was the middle child, but always the smallest. Sue learned how
to push Kim around by the time they could both walk, and Wendy, her younger
sister, was born with Giantism—there was no hope for equality. Kim’s first name
was Carolyn, after he mom, but the one thing she did manage to call her own was
her middle name.
***
Get up
before the sun cracks over the horizon off far in the distance. Look out the window
to see the red turn orange, and the orange turn yellow, and the yellow shine on
green—or brown on the far fields. Clothes on, bite to eat, out the door. Mom
made eggs today: no fighting until at least lunch time. Walk out to the red
garage barn closest to the house. The sheep are down the hill again. Get them
after midday. Hop on the new tractor and hook up the bailor. Drive out to the
far field and turn that brown back to green.
Come back
for lunch. The dogs are pestering the chickens again. Yell, smack in the head,
deep growl and pin to ground.
***
Kevin left
home at 16 in his 67’ Oldsmobile. He became a Jehova’s Witness and
wholeheartedly believed in his message. He went door to door. He handed out
flyers. He biked or ran and left his Oldsmobile by the Amish house he rented a
room from.
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