September 25, 2023
In Kansas, driver-learning permits are still issued to 14-year-olds. Everyone knows this is too young, but it was the tradition from farm communities; the wheat had to get to the elevator during harvest, and during the horse-and-wagon days 14 was mature enough to make it work.
The concept did not migrate well to the internal combustion engine, but the agricultural lobby was nothing to argue with.
I bought a well-used Chevy Beretta for the younger son. It was old, cheap and disreputable, with bad paint and worn upholstery, but as a two-door hardtop it looked cool, sported a V-6 power plant and 5-on-the-floor manual shift.
No automatic transmission for this kid; he was determined to run a clutch.
It took a few blood-curdling weeks to learn the transmission, but after the demon was exorcised, he got the hang of it.
The car would go like gee-whiz. When I bought it, I had no idea it would perform as well as it did.
He and his brother both drove to high school on their own, in their own vehicles. It was a 10-mile highway trip one way, and during their respective 14th years I trained them both.
We lived in a small town near Wichita, and every day that we went to school, the kid would drive: His car, his route, his school. He would pull into the parking lot, park it, shut it off, and hand me the keys. I would then take his car to work, and he would catch a ride home with Mom or Uncle or neighbor or equivalent.
In that way, each boy had about 300 sorties under his belt by the time the 15-year-old Restricted License was issued. With that, he could legally navigate to and from school on his own.
The training approach I employed is not necessarily to be confused with safe or responsible, but it was the best I could do.
One day, after receiving the Restricted License, he showed up at home after school looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. I happened to be home early from work that day. “Hey, what’s up?” I greeted him.
He paused and gave me a strange look, a smile involuntarily forming at the corners of his mouth. Quietly, he said, “I did a hundred and ten on the way home tonight.”
I held his eyes and commanded myself to remain calm, then closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.
Slowly and deliberately, I enunciated the next words: “Don’t ever do that again,” I said calmly, then glanced away. “And if you do,” I added, “check the oil level and the tire pressure first.”
“Oil and tires?” he repeated.
I nodded. “Low oil will kill your engine,” I said. “Low tire pressure will kill you. Check both before you do that.” I stared at him. “But don’t do it. Now that you know the car is good for it, you have nothing left to prove.”
He smiled widely, no doubt relieved to avoid what would have been a major shouting session in some of his friends’ homes.
“I’ve got homework,” he said, and headed for his room. There was a slight swagger to his step.
Somehow, I never got around to telling him that, when I was his age, my Mini Cooper topped out at 105.
Theological Contemplations
One never really knows how to deal with misbehavior on the part of the teen child. He or she is flexing muscle, testing the limits, and needs a certain amount of freedom to learn where the ditches are.
We only hope they learn the boundaries before serious damage occurs.
Most teen boys have no idea how to change a tire, hook up a tow chain or check the oil; let alone start the chainsaw or break down the shotgun.
Do they need those life skills? Perhaps not, but there seems something righteous and holy about having the capability, even if unexercised.
The Old Testament Jonathan was accompanied by “the young man that bore his armor” when their two-man assault team attacked the Philistines on high ground.
Jonathan said to his young armor-bearer, “Come, let’s go over to the outpost of those uncircumcised men. Perhaps the Lord will act in our behalf. Nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.”
“Do all that you have in mind,” his armor-bearer said. “Go ahead; I am with you heart and soul.” (1 Samuel 14:6-7)
Only one of them was armed. The record shows that they both crawled up the steep slope on hands and knees, then Jonathan abruptly stood, drew his sword, and went on the attack.
The small contingent of surprised enemy troops fled before him, and the unnamed armor-bearer apparently picked up a discarded sword and dispatched those who had fallen.
It seems that the armor-bearer knew how to use the weapon, even though it was not his day job.
The kid had learned it somewhere, probably from Dad, and probably with lessons about responsibility, obligation and moderation.
Those lessons have not changed much in 3,000 years. Fact is, they will never change; they will always be necessary.
Lessons such as these are ignored at great cost to self and to society.
Medical - Leukemia
Some of you have inquired after my health. Thank you for that. My diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukemia was rendered on June 22, 2022. After a three-month hospital stay involving chemotherapy and somewhat serious collateral damage, AML was in remission and I was dismissed to home.
Chemotherapy continued out-patient with clinic visits through February 2023, then moved to an oral chemo med which will be with me probably through the end of this year.
The cancer remains in remission and I have experienced no side effects whatsoever. I look and act healthy.
That does not keep me from playing the cancer card to my benefit when needed.
Read the riveting saga in Alligator Wrestling in the Cancer Ward, available in paperback, audio and eBook wherever books are sold. For a signed copy, get it at www.alligatorpublishing.com.
Also see it at Watermark Books in Wichita.
Cattle Baron’s Ball
Having become something of a poster child for surviving leukemia (and being a published author with a wildly successful book) I have been asked, along with two others, to present my survivor story at the Cattle Baron’s Ball in Wichita.
The Cattle Baron’s Ball is sponsored by American Cancer Society and makes its appearance in many cities across the country.
I accepted the invitation to the Wichita event, although my only real claim to fame is that I walked out of the hospital under my own power after having taken Medicare to the cleaners for about $2 million. Thanks for your contributions, by the way.
The event is at 6:00 pm on November 11, 2023 at Marriott East, Wichita, Kansas. Tickets remain available, and I would urge you to attend. Dress is western casual… jeans and boots will not be out of place.
If you are so led, purchase a 10-top table and invite your family and friends.
I get nothing from this except the assurance that somebody could offer applause when I’m on stage.
This is a fund raiser. Because of the rare variant of AML which I have managed to exploit so thoroughly, I have become something of a fan of medical research and the funds that make it happen.
And that’s as briefly said as I can say it. Have a good week!
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That’s all for now!
Curt
Alligator: Briefly Said