Another Movie Day Adventure

As a five year old child I would spend an afternoon at the theater with my older brothers Vic and Dennis. Those early childhood times spent with my brothers are some of the best memories of my life. One particular afternoon we headed off to see some monster marathon and upon entering the movie house I had been inflicted with a mild case of laryngitis. I knew it would be useless to scream at any movie monsters, so during the shows I was content to just sit in my chair as tense as a frozen log in winter.As we exited the theater and started on our way home we passed Mrs. Johnson, an energetic, happy old lady who greeted us with..."Hello boys".We had been taught to be polite and that a return address was expected, so I tried to get out a "Hello Mrs. Johnson" of my own to mind my manners.To my surprise, the greeting came out full of energy and in strong voice. It seemed my laryngitis was miraculously gone. In a joyous state I walked along the street continuing in my polite mode..."Hello Mrs. Johnson...good morning...hi there..."I was talking out loud to no one as a result of the surprising rediscovery of my voice.Vic and Dennis had slowed to a near stop and let me continue on ahead of them, much amuzed at my babbling conversation with an invisible woman. After five seconds of walking and talking I realized there was a good round of laughing going on behind me. When I turned and realized my brothers were having a good laugh at my expense I became immdiately outraged and ran back to inflict a wound on their laughing lips.Dennis was closer to my age and height so I was going to hit him first. I reached my arm back and was getting ready to land a big, right handed haymaker when Vic stepped in to save Dennis. Vic caught my hand in flight towards Dennis's mouth and easily pushed me up against the store building we were passing by. This only enraged me more so I took a swing at Vic with my left arm that was free. I hit him only once in the chest when he took my left arm and also pinned it up against the building. I had a nasty reputation as being a volcano as a little child and was not about to let this chaining of my arms end my angry eruption, so I started kicking Vic in the shins as violently as I good seeing how I couldn't hit him with my arms. Vic had been in battles with me before and knew how to counter act the flailing of my legs. He simply pushed his knees into my legs, thus completely nailing me to the side of the building.There we were, the three, hardly united Musketeers. I was completely harnessed now by Vic physically, but still had another weapon ready to unleash upon him. My mouth was now working very well as the laryngitis had disappeared and I stuck my face forward and shouted out as loudly as I could..."Shit!!!"Vic's face had an instant look of shock. I could see I now had the upper hand."Shit! Shit! Shit!"I started yelling out as loudly as I could.Vic would have none of this profanity so he let go of my right hand so he could cover my mouth to shut me up. With my hand now free I started pummeling his face as best I could to get my anger out of me and inflict some just punishment. Again, Vic found himself in a dilemma. Should he uncover my mouth and protect himself? Of course he should!!! I was now beating the crap out of him.When Vic grabbed my hand to push it back against the building to save himself I started with my profanities again..."Shit shit shit..."There was no winning the battle for Vic so he let me go completely and backed away about five feet. I was steaming mad, but had used up about all the energy I had left so I just stood there looking at both Vic and Dennis. Dennis had been a bystander through this short war Vic and I had just waged and was the first one to start in with conversation."I'm going to tell Mom and Dad...."I knew I was in trouble.My anger subsided immediately as I made a plan of how I was going to run away from home...it seemed the only way I could escape the long arm of parental law.

Our special movie day time

Going to watch a matinee movie was always a special treat. I suppose like many of you, there was a special day in the month when Vic, Dennis and I were allowed to spend an afternoon in the movie house watching an assortment of monster movies, westerns and an occasional mystery movie. There were a few preliminaries that we always indulged in as we made our preparations for such expeditions. I always have considered myself a normal person so please let me know if you did the same thing I did. First, we always made sure we had our slingshots in our back pockets. Secondly, before entering the show house we would stop at the neighborhood store and buy all the chewing gum we could with what little extra money we had. Third, we'd try to get up into one of the chairs at the front of the theater. Now we are ready for the fun so let the show begin. As the lights darkened and the movie came up on the screen we would pop one of the pieces of chewing gum into my mouth. I always loved the first bites of chewing gum. All that sugar separating itself from the gum and making its delicious trip down into my stomach. You know how fast that sugar leaves though and then you are left with this tasteless bullet of gum in your mouth. Did I say bullet? Of course I did, that is why we would always bring our slingshots along. After much of the sugar was gone from the gum it left a perfect little projectile that fit nicely into the leather tongue of my slingshot. The theater was always dark enough that we could aim the slingshot from my hip and launch my gum wad up at the theater screen and no one was any the wiser that some dastardly deed had just been committed. Most times we couldn't tell if our gum wad even made it up to the screen. If it arrived, did it stick? If it did stick, was it on a brown tree or the black monster? We usually couldn't tell. During one western starring, John Wayne I hit right on target. It was one of those close-up scenes where John Wayne's face covered the entire screen. I pulled back the rubber strings on my slingshot and let go with a very fine blob of gooey gum. Suddenly out of no where, John Wayne had a new mole on the left side of his forehead above his eye. If you had been there that day it wouldn't have been a noticeable addition to his features but, I saw it immediately. That was the day I got the better of John Wayne. Early movie days with Vic are leaving me with a warm nostalgia today.

Remembering Vic--One of those irritating sayings

Vic would have been close to being a teenager for this one and he had this very irritating saying that he repeated for dumb acts. It is probably because I am the champion of dumb acts so he used it on me often.
Like one time when I was not holding the garbage bag securely as I was doing my chore of taking it out. The bag ripped and fell from my hands onto the floor. Rather than come over and help me in my time of immense trial Vic clapped his hands in appreciation of my dumb act and half way shouted out..."Smooth move Exlax"...
I think all of us might have a phase we remember going through when we acted in a similar manner to this and had some catchy phrase we used on others.
Well, like I said, Vic used this one regularly on me so I shouldn't have to inform anyone it made me seethe with anger.
One evening at the dinner table Vic reached up and over his plate to get more of whatever delicacy we were eating for the night and he knocked over his milk. Not wanting to pass on the event I jumped to my feet so as to give him a standing ovation and repeated his own works...
"Smooth move Exlax"... but I was not content to make it a mere casual statement. I said it loud but not in a yelling mode..."SMOOTH MOVE EXLAXXXXXXX" and I was heavy on the xxxxx.
Vic turned a sudden crimson color himself out of anger at being caught in his own belittling phrase and I know if I had been somewhere other than the exact opposite side of the table I would have gotten punched in the face.
Mom gave me a stern look herself for acting in such a manner at the dinner table and Dad had the most quizzacle look on his face as if to say..."What does that mean?"
Still it was a choice moment of comebacks in my revenge list and has stuck with me to this day.


Ahhhh how I would love to have him humiliate me one more time with it.....

That Dean boy streak

I remember the story being told of Vic when we were living with Grandma Matlock (Mom's mom)
It seems that things were might quiet around the house which is never a good sign with inquisitive toddlers. After a quick search to find him they discovered he was in the cupboard area under the kitchen sink and had stowed himself away with a bottle of Karo syrup that he had pretty much emptied onto his head and face.

Remembering Vic II

One of the stories Mom tells of Vic was shortly after Dennis was brought home as a new born.
Mom did one of those parental baby checks that new mothers make very regularly to check on her newborn Dennis as he was down for one of his daily sleeps.
She was very surprised to see Vic had gotten out a suit case and was getting ready to put Dennis inside of it. At this time Vic would have been closing in on three so it was not a safe thing for him to be lifting Dennis, let alone putting him in a suit case.
Mom said she wasn't sure if Vic was putting him in the suitcase to send him away out of jealousy or if he was planning on running away with his new best friend, but she stopped him from doing it no matter what his intentions were.

Remembering Vic

The day Vic was born was a very exciting time for Dad. You would have thought the veteran who had seen action at the end of WWII would have been a little more composed, but every time he told the story of the day Vic was born he would laugh at himself.
When Mom told him she was in labor and ready to go to the hospital, a big uneasyness set in for Dad. While Mom was out waiting in the car Dad ran back into the house to get some towels before tearing out of Mancos in a big roar to get Mom to the hospital in Durango.
Dad was going way over the speed limit which caught the attention of a waiting policeman who immediately started a chase that Dad would not stop for.
If it wasn't bad enough he was speeding, he than ran every red light and stop sign between him and the hospital.
As he pulled into the hospital parking lot with the policeman flashing his lights Dad refused to answer any of the questions being asked him as he tried to pull Mom out of the car and carry her inside.
I'm not sure the conversation that was going on between Mom and Dad during the drive from Mancos to Durango, but there in the parking lot Mom told him to quit acting like a lunatic and let her walk into the hospital so she could get to the task at hand of delivering a baby.
The first steps Mom made found Dad right behind her with his hands on her making sure she did not fall down. Again, Mom told him to leave her alone and the thought flashed through Dad's head he had not used those towels he threw into the back seat so he ran back to the car to get the towels while trying to negotiate with the policeman.
Dad ran back to Mom and was trying to figure out how to use the towels on her when she again told him to leave her alone. (Apparently he was way out of his comfort zone if he was not on the battle lines)
Dad said he did not know what to do with the towels so he threw them in the bushes outside the hospital doors as Mom was entering in.
Back in those days fathers had to wait outside the delivery room so Dad did much pacing while Mom was doing all the work of bringing their first son Victor Irwin Dean into the world.
Luckily for us all, Dad's over exciteability did not rub off on Vic and the rest of October 18th, 1947 was a happy, calmer day.

What child doesn’t have a story of a tree house while in their youth?
In our back yard was our tree house. Dennis was getting weaker as the MD progressed in his body, so we made sure the tree house was easily accessible. It was low in the tree and the steps leading up to it were wide and well secured to the tree. We had gotten a bb gun for Christmas the previous holiday and we were eager to find a bunker we could shoot it from. The tree house was perfect. It was cumbersome for Dennis to make several trips into the tree house, so we always made sure we had plenty of ammo to last us awhile each time we ventured into our bunker…which was often.
From the cover of our private club house we were safe to send a barrage of bullets upon any unsuspecting animal venturing into our shooting range. If a stray dog wandered close to our property we were quick to send him on his way yelping. The same was true for cats. Although we wouldn’t consider the sound they made to be a yelp. Many a bird met its maker when they would land in the tree that housed our bunker.
Even neighborhood animals have intelligence though and the visits from meandering dogs and cats grew more and more scarce as they learned they would get pelted if they came too close to the certain area that comprised the range of our gun. What is and army to do when they don’t have a foe to shoot at? We started shooting at something new.
Across the street and one lot to the east of our tree house was a business run my Mr. Zender. He had a repair shop where he worked on all manner of small engines and parts. He would work on some of my future lawn mowers from this very shop which now became our newest target. His entire building was made of galvanized sheeting through and through. From the door to the walls, from the floor to the roof, it was all galvanized sheeting. The sound of a bb hitting galvanized steel is quite resounding, so Mr. Zender could easily hear each bb that hit his building and echoed through out his shop. One day in every week was torment Mr. Zender day. From the privacy of our tree house we’d shoot a single shot onto the roof of his shop. The initial landing would make a very audible “ping” upon its landing. As the bb took its long, rolling trip down the inclined, corrugated roof, it made its own definite, tortuous sound. The sound would reverberate throughout his shop until it finally reached the bottom edge of the roof and fell harmlessly to the parking lot surrounding his building.We would shoot several rounds, one right after another to make the annoying sound triple in intensity to get a reaction from Mr. Zender. He would come running out from the inner sanctuary of his shop and peer up and down the road looking for the perpetrators of this hideous noise. We always made our salvos onto his roof when absolutely no one was around to heighten his frustration in not being able to find the guilty party. We would peer out the many knot holes in our tree house and watch as his head would rip from side to side in an attempt to locate us. Usually on the third trip Mr. Zender would yell some threat that if he ever caught us we would be sorry we were ever born. Such a threat would bring giggles out of us and make us stop shooting for a brief period. We made sure we had our sandwiches and drinks for lunch so if he were looking out the window hoping to find any slinking bodies, his resolve to find us wasn’t stronger than our hunger. In such fashion we vexed Mr. Zender many times, never getting caught.