A good idea

I was sitting down at the computer yesterday, fresh out of ideas for a column, but as faith would have it, the phone rang. On the other end of the line, Big Brother James said, “Hey, I’ve got a great idea.” A cold shiver ran down my spine as I remembered another time he had said those very words.

My trip to the hospital was actually set into motion when my three brothers and I were hiking down by Cripple Creek. Cripple Creek flowed behind every house on west side of Flamingo Street and came fully equipped with a swimming hole and rope swing.

We had just passed the blackened area of the forest, ground zero for our flaming marshmallow war the week before, when Big Brother James saw it. Not more than 10 feet up in a small sweet gum tree was the largest paper wasp nest any of us had ever seen.

Now, sometimes when you’re young, logical thinking goes out the window. For the most part, that’s how my three brothers and I were growing up. We learned early on that being logical takes all the fun out of being a kid. Any other group of kids that had just walked under a giant paper wasp nest would slowly back away, relieved that they hadn’t gotten stung. But that would be logical, and there would be no fun it that.

The sweet gum tree that stood on the bank of Cripple Creek was no bigger around than a baseball bat. It had rained the night before, weighing down the pumpkin-sized papered nest.

We played on the other side of the creek from the tree, climbing saplings to the point they’d bend over then riding them back to the ground. Each of us took turns keeping an eye on the wasps coming and going of the giant nest. After an hour of riding trees, it was Big Brother James who finally said, “Hey, I got a great idea.”

I, for one, wasn’t happy to hear him say those words. As far back as I could remember, each time he said he had a great idea, someone got hurt. Since I hadn’t gotten hurt in a while, I figured I was about due. I was right.

James’s idea was logical, which should have been my first indication that something was really wrong with it — and that it wasn’t going to be any fun. He had watched National Geographic and swore that wasps didn’t like flying over water. None had so far, and Older Brother Richard professed to have seen the same show. James and Richard agreeing on something should’ve been my second indication that something was about to go horribly wrong.

James’s idea was simple enough. Each of us would pick up two baseball-sized rocks and take turns flinging them across the water at the nest. The first one who hit the nest would win. And since National Geographic said wasps couldn’t cross over water, we would all be safe.

James wouldn’t say what the winner would get, but I really wanted to win. I never won at anything. But the most important sign that something was amiss came next. James, Richard, and Twin Brother Mark said that I could go first. Being the youngest, I never went first.

They stood behind me, handing me rocks that I kept flinging across the creek. I came close a couple of times until James helped me with my aim. On the next throw, I hit the nest dead center. The pumpkin-sized nest split wide open exposing an entire city of black wasps. Immediately, they formed a huge, angry cloud over their destroyed home. The dark buzzing swarm, to my surprise, started to move across the water towards me.

“Hey, guys! National Geographic was wrong; wasps do cross water.” My brothers didn’t hear the comment; they had already beaten a path through the woods. The wasps obviously cared more about seeking revenge on the individual who destroyed their home than their phobia of water crossing.

Lying on the hospital bed for the next two days, the thought I had taken out a couple of the stinging insects with my last two rocks was of little comfort. Planning my revenge on my brothers? Now that was a different story.

I hung up the phone. James rented a stretch limo for Dad’s 80th birthday. We all rode like royalty to Chops for an elegant dinner, fancy desserts, and of course some adult beverages. The birthday boy had a wonderful time, and no one got hurt.

This time Big Brother James’s good idea was a great idea. But I’m still keeping an eye out for wasps, just in case.

Rick Ryckely Being A Kid

Submitted by Git Real on Sun, 10/21/2007 - 3:46pm.

Man, how I wish I could turn back the clock. Being a 10 year old boy in the great outdoors is a good as it gets. I wanna go home.....

Now Rick.... If you promise to not let that massage dude come at you with that cucumber again and you don't allow him to put his hands on you I'll promise not to ever let a word of that episode leak out to your brothers.

Getting back to the point.... Brother James and his "Hey, I've got a great idea" line must have turned out to be an awesome experience with your dad. Treasure it. It's guaranteed to become a priceless event in your life.

**** GIT REAL TOUGH ON CRIME ****

"That man was Griffin Judicial Circuit District Attorney Scott Ballard".

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