I'm Bored

I learned from a young age never to utter within my dad's hearing, "I'm Bored!".

That meant he would find me something to do where I would no longer bear the burden of being bored. Often time the activity involved picking up rocks.

Now we lived on what I always considered the most rock producing soil God ever created. Everytime dad plowed the ground, more rocks, thus always plenty of rocks to pick up. Rocks of all shapes and sizes.

Sometimes I had quotas. One bucket, two, a waggon load.

What did we do with them you ask? Simple, we collected them and poured them into the "rock pile". When the rock pile became to large, we loaded them up and took them to the local land fill.

Imagine my surprise when my mother tells me that a young impressionable child who my sister is teaching was out at the house as a "field trip" to the "farm" found that he liked picking up rocks and ASKED TO COME BACK AND DO IT AGAIN!

My first comment to my mother was, "Rocks - what rocks? Surely by now we have collected all the rocks after 25 years of picking them up!" She roared with laughter as she said my sister said nearly the exact same thing. To which I relied, "I don't remember B picking up rocks!"

I am inclined to think that perhaps our minds as adults might "tweak" certain memories from our childhood and our parents may not be as clear on all the details as they once were.

Nonetheless, as Forest Gump said, "Sometimes there aren't enough rocks." He was not standing on the land of my upbringing. Evidently there is a whole new generation of rocks for bored and not bored youngsters to collect.!

LLL