Trips to the dentist are not nearly as frightening today as they were once upon a time. “Painless Dentistry” is even almost true. But ths was not always the case.

My first trip to the dentist, at least the first one that I remember, was quite scary. Here these people plop you in a big chair, shine a light in your eyes and start poking around in your mouth.

At least they didn’t wear masks back then to keep their identity secret. They claim they wear masks today to protect them against germs and infections. I think they actually wear masks today to protect themselves from retribution.

After the dentist and his assistant finished poking me in the mouth with a sharp instrument and scraping away in there, he said I had a small cavity and that he would have to remove the decayed matter and then fill the hole. But it wouldn’t hurt. He would give me an injection first so I would not feel anything. When you are young, you tend to believe grownups but you soon learn that maybe you shouldn’t.

He stuck me in the mouth with a looong needle and injected me with something. He then left and said he would be back to check on me in a few minutes.

Well, he came back a little later and asked me if my mouth was numb yet. I said “no” so he left. He came back again and said, “Is your mouth numb yet?”. I said “No.” again.

We went through this check a couple more times with either him or his assistant coming in to ask the question. After almost an hour of this he decided he better give me another shot.

After a bit he came in and said “Are you numb yet?”, and I said “No. What’s numb?”.

After he said a few more choice words he finally went to work on me. That is when I knew he was lying all along and probably just kept sticking me with the big needle to take my mind off of what was to follow because it really hurt!

I have always liked flowers and gardening in general. Much of my appreciation for flowers stems from the magic of a yellow rose when I was about 4 years old.

We lived in a 2 story house on Sargent Ave in Klamath Falls, just a few houses down from a grade school. A driveway ran along one side of the house bordered by a fence which at certain times of the year was covered with blooms of a yellow climbing rose. A similar rose also climbed part way up the side of the house.

I recall that one time I picked a flower which had not yet opened and ran into the house to proudly present it to my mother. As mothers do, she thanked me for it and oohed and awhed over it even though it was not yet open and merely a green swollen bud. Mom placed this bud in a glass of water and put in on a shelf in a cupboard. She said that if we left it there over night and did not open the cupboard door, the rose would open fully by morning.

The next morning I ran downstairs opened the cupboard and gazed upon a beautiful, fully opened yellow rose.

For years after this I kept trying to force roses into bloom by placing buds in a glass of water in a dark cupboard over night.

I can’t recall how many years passed before I realized that the magic of this rose came from a Mothers love and kindness in substituting a fully opened rose for a bud so she could see the wonder in her child’s face.

School was a happy place for many people. A place that is often returned to in memory. The friends, teachers and activities all bring forth recollections of pleasant times. Times to which many people would like to return.

This is not so in my case.

I have very few pleasant memories of school, or really of much of childhood. I am not bitter and would not change anything even if I could because then I would be a different person than I am today and I am quite happy with the “Gerry” of today.

My most memorable school days occurrences are not at all happy or carefree.

My earliest school memory was my first day in school. First grade at Mills elementary in Klamath Falls, Oregon. I remember walking to school with my older sister Delores and then being surrounded by many strange children on the school playground area. Somewhere a bell rang and everyone disappeared. I had no idea what to do or where I was supposed to be. I just walked around a little and wondered where I was supposed to be.

After awhile a lady came out and talked to me for a short time and took me into the school and to the proper classroom. That is all I remember of my first day and I do not look back upon it with any fondness, only with the fright of a small, lost child.

One time in the fourth grade our class was herded outside while our cloaks had to be left behind. When we were brought back in, the teacher pulled me out of class and accused me of stealing someones marbles. I did not do this but the marbles were found in my coat. No matter how hard I protested my innocence, I was not believed and was punished accordingly.

A friend, Bradford Howard, laughingly admitted the next year that he had stashed the marbles he had stolen in the closest pocket he could find to get rid of them before he was caught with them.

Surprisingly, it was several more years before “Butch”, Bradford, and I came to a parting of the ways and I did have some good times with him. His “prank” was tied in my mind to the school, not to him. He did what he did but I always thought that the teachers should have believed me.

More School Daze to be continued.

There are many things that I think of now and then as “my earliest memory”.  One memory of an ice cream cone, if not the earliest, certainly comes close.

When I was 3 years old I spent most of the year with my grandmother on the family farm in Montana. One day my 23 year old uncle, Duane Zeiler, who lived on the farm took the family car to town. Along for the ride were several people, including me. He would have left me at home if he could have seen into the future.

I seem to recall that this was a regular trip to town to pick up needed items which probably meant seed or feed. I think we went to Missoula but it could have been Hamilton. While we were in town, Uncle Duane had some work done on the car.

Now, what 3 year old knows anything about a car or what work is needed and what is extra foolishness? I am sure I knew nothing about the “work” that was needed that day.

To make sure that I never told Grandma anything about this work, Uncle Duane promised me an ice cream cone if I would not say anything about the new “oogah” horn he had installed.

I don’t think at that time in his life Uncle Duane knew much about children because he went ahead and bought me the ice cream cone before we left for home.

Still, it was not likely that I would have broken my promise if he had not told me about the horn and then demonstrated its unique blast of “OOOGAHHH” accompanied by bursts of laughter every now and then as we drove home.

Is it any wonder that the first words out of my mouth when the car doors opened when we got home was “Grandma! Uncle Duane got a horn!”? I knew Uncle Duane couldn’t take back the ice cream – but he would have if possible.

Growing up it almost seems natural that we are destined to ignore some of the advice that we receive from our parents.  It doesn’t matter what the advice is about, we have so many “important” things rattling around in our mind that a lot of good advice just sort of leaks out.

There is one bit of really sound advice that I received from my step-father, John T. (Jack) Brosnan, that sort of haunts me now and then because I totally disregarded it even though I often thought about it.

Jack did not care to fish and never hunted but he would drive me and a friend or 2 to a favorite fishing hole where he would spend the day relaxed, reading a novel while we fished.

Jack was a business man and card player by profession. He owned a tavern and ran card games in one of the rooms. He always dressed in a suit, white shirt and tie. Mom bought him some plaid Pendleton shirts that I don’t think he ever wore. He ended up giving them to me. I can’t recall Jack ever having a wrench in his hand.

One day he was driving me from Klamath Falls to the Little Deschutes River near Gilchrist when our 1947 Buick Super had a flat tire. Well, Jack had no idea what to do. Maybe walk to the nearest town for help or flag down a passing car?

James (Jim) Pugh, one of my best friends, was with us and he thought it was all pretty funny. We were about 14 or 15 at the time with Jim one year ahead of me. We got out of the car and Jim proceeded to change the tire for us with my help.

While changing the tire, Jim made some derogatory remark about Jack not even being able to change a tire. Of course, Jack overheard this.

After the tire was changed but before we got underway again, Jack said:

“I want to tell you something. I admit that I don’t know anything about a car. When something goes wrong with it, I take it to my mechanic. When something goes wrong with my body I go see my doctor. When I need legal advice, I go to my lawyer. When they want to have a little fun and play some poker, they come to me. That is what I do and I am good at it because that is all that I do.  Whatever you do in life, stick to it an don’t do anything else if you want to be successful”.

Wonderful words of parental wisdom that I seem to have totally ignored over the years. But then if I had done anything else but what I have done with my life I would not be the person I am today. Still, while I ignored the advice I would highly recommend this counsel to any young person wanting to be successful in life.