The two required courses in the 8th grade were
Georgia History and Agriculture. Home Ec for girls.
When you took Agriculture you had to join the FFA.
Future Farmers of America. Some of the older boys
had been held back, for being retarded. I made fun of them.
At the FFA initiation, they got their pound of flesh from
smart-asses. I was terrified. Luckily, my grandfather had a nervous
breakdown and Dad gave up on his dream to be a minister and went home to run
the family business, a bulk plant for the Orange State Oil Company. Cities Service.
Now Citgo. What a relief. I was rescued. I drove a gas truck for dad in the summer.
To service stations and farm accounts. There will be blood. The company ate
Dad's milkshake. It was like high school. The big fish eat the little fish.
Nobody slides, my friend. No wonder Pop went crazy.
The horror. The horror.
I was going to be
a writer. Like Thor Heyerdahl,
Kon-Tiki. I would have adventures
and write about them. And that is what
I'm doing. I am the man, I suffered, I was there.
When all is said and did and done, I did it.
Fishing stories.