This is part of the “Tell Me a Story” collection of stories. To know the neighborhood and kids, please check out the map and “whos who” pages first for some context.
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This is a story about Johnny and a hot summer afternoon and Jimmy and Albert.
Jimmy and Albert lived right across the street from 139 South Dixie Trail, my house. Their father, Joe, was very orderly, had an easy laugh but very stern and was quick to discipline his two boys; He kept everything in order and he was in horticulture at State and had a very nice greenhouse in his backyard. He made sure Jimmy and Albert did things his way and was quick to snap them into line with some yelling and even a switch on occasion.
It was in June and on that one hot summer afternoon, right before dinner, Johnny and I walked down their sloped white concrete driveway and into their backyard because we could see Jimmy and Albert setting up a brand new croquet set their parents bought them from Sears and Roebuck. Ah, yes, a game for the refined. originated by English gentlemen,
Because of the Mister’s hard work and diligence, their yard was the nicest in the neighborhood. Lush green grass and it was nicely edged–long before weed whackers.
We were only about 8 or 9 and we worked well together to follow the drawings and instructions on the box, carefully and gently working the wickets into the soft soil. Albert told us to place the two “posts”. Each post was a stick about 15-inches long with colored stripes and we were to work the pointed end of the stick in the ground only about 3 inches while he placed the remaining wickets. Then, we would start to play.
I remember how happy we were to set up the croquet course.
We had already placed one post when Johnny started tapping the top of the remaining post, like this genteel guy below.
But, Johnny, ever playful, kept striking the the stick harder and further and further into the ground. We started giggling and then almost crying with laughter as Johnny started to really wail on the post gripping the mallet with both hands for maximum impact.
Wham! Wham!
Pounding it deeper and deeper into the ground so that eventually there was nothing left of the stick about except for a nub of maybe an inch sticking out of the ground. Everything else was in the ground and we were all standing around laughing at this ridiculous sight of this little nub sticking out of the soil.
At that very moment, we heard their father whistling has he came walking down the driveway.
Jeeze!
We started trying to pry the post out of the ground before he saw it but the thing was so deep that there was nothing to grab to pull it out. The Mister came up and asked what we were doing. .
Immediately, he recognized what was left of his brand-new croquet post and his face reddened as he turned to Albert and Jimmy. Johnny and I got the hell out of there and ran back to my house across the street as the Mister started yelling at Jimmy and Albert. We just kept running up the steps an onto our front porch as we heard Jimmy and Albert screaming. I remembered Jimmy’s high-pitched screams really were more like squealing.
Later, Johnny and I saw their father having to use a big shovel to extract the post. Jimmy and Albert were nowhere in sight and we were sure they had been sent to bed without dinner.
Johnny and I were never invited to play croquet again but the four of us laughed about that afternoon for years to come.
A Father Looks Past Sixty 