[[ I ran across a bunch of old files that I had been putting together as part of an autobiography. I decided to post them here since it's easier than actually trying to think of something to write. Some have dates associated with them shown at the end of the items that had them. I don't remember what the date actually reflects; It doesn't appear to do with the actual date of authorship. ]]
CHILDHOOD
Buster, our mongrel dog, would come with us to our vacations to Maine. The house we rented on the island was on a wooded hill beside a river. This river was tidal, meaning that the water went toward the sea when the tide was going out, and went inland when the tide was coming in. Conditions were primitive for us and the neighbors. There was no running water. That meant that as well as using a hand pump to get water we also had to use either a privy outside, or a chemical toilet inside. Most used chemical toilets. When they got full the neighbors and we would empty them into the river when the tide was going out. Buster loved to swim. From time to time he would run down the hill and swim in the toilet effluent. That was bad enough. When he was through he would run back up the hill, stand close to anyone who was handy and shake himself, the way dogs do. We would watch him run up the hill knowing what he intended to do. We would point our finger at him and say (or yell), “Don't you do it Buster! Don't!” He didn't seem to understand. And he would do it.
5/17/2012
