Elmer and the Red Ball Express

Elmer was about 7 when he found what would become the Red Ball Express.

Elmer was rooting through the dump. Not just any old dump. No, this was the dump on the family farm. Back in the day, all farms had a dump. The farmer would excavate a rather large hole in the ground, throw in some trash, and call it a dump. The family dump. Something to be proud of.

“Yep, I just got done digging our family dump,” a farmer would brag. “Took awhile to get started. But we decided we couldn’t be the only family without a fresh family dump. It just wouldn't look right. The wife is over to the Johansson’s bragging about it as we speak. Yep, a mighty fine dump it is, if I say so myself. Used it just before coming into town.”

This particular dump was created many years before Elmer's family moved to the farm. By an unknown family, who had long since moved on. There were treasures here, he was certain. Why, there could even be items here to sell! For money or just to trade. On this day he and his friend, Harold (Harry) Phratry, who lived just down the road on the next farm, were digging near the far end of the dump. “The far end” was the oldest part of the dump. They knew this because Elmer's family threw their trash into the “The near end”. So far, they had found nothing worth the effort. Even the farm dog, Digger, was laying down, panting but still interested, having dug up several disgusting things Elmer and Harry could not identify. 

Digger, a dirty colored mangy farm cur with a patch of black fur around the right eye, was a happy dog whose tail was always waging with boundless energy. Happy to be included in the treasure hunt. He reminded everyone of an old patch rug. He was found by Elmer’s pa, while still a pup, stuck in a mud hole out in the north field. He had to use a shovel to dig him out. Thus the name. No one came by to lay a claim to him. Digger’s origin, and how he came to be stuck in the mud, remained a mystery. Digger was very loyal to the farm or just did not want to move to town when Elmer and his family did several years later. He stayed on the farm, regardless who the family was. Digger died of old age while digging a hole. He was “buried” in the dump.

Suddenly there was a loud “clank” as Harry's shovel hit something. Treasure! They were sure it was valuable treasure. Imagine the looks of disappointment when, after digging it out they discovered it to be an old bicycle wheel. Harry tossed it into the discard pile. After digging most of the afternoon, the pile had grown rapidly. 

“Say, Harry,” said Elmer, “every thing we dug up is in the discard pile. None is the treasure we were seeking.”

“Ya, maybe we should rename the pile. We don’t want to stop digging without some treasure,” replied Harry.

That was how the discard pile became the treasure trove. Neither one wanted to dig all afternoon for treasure just to have it end as discards. In the pile was four wheels, a badly used Red Ryder wagon, a red ball, bicycle handlebars and a hammer.

“Boy, what a treasure” said Elmer. “We can make something as soon as we think of what. What we need is a plan.”

“Yea. Bet we can make something we can sell.” replied Harry. “But I don’t know about a plan.”

“What about we make a truck with the treasure. We can hammer the dents out of the wagon, attach the wheels. Maybe tie a rope to Digger so he could pull it.”

“Yea. We can attach this handle bar so we both can pull at the same time or hitch Digger to it. He'll think it fun. Just like a team of horses. And we can throw in this old red ball for Digger.”

“If you throw in that red ball, we will be pulling Digger.” 

They spent what was left of the summer building the ‘truck’. The old hammer they found came in handy, pounding on the dents. But, truth be told, most of the dents remained. Harry allowed it gave it caricature not really knowing what the word meant. He just liked the sound of it. Harry’s pa had an old gallon of red paint the boys got their hands on. They painted themselves, the ‘truck’, and Digger, red. Most of it wore off by the time school started. They scratched the name “Red Ball Express” into the side after asking for help with the spelling. They never got Digger to pull the wagon. Whenever they tried, he just ran around barking, having a good time thinking they wanted to play with him. Tongue out and grinning. That was one happy dog. He loved jumping into the ‘Red Ball Express’, hang his tongue out and grin, every time the boys played with it. 

Epilogue

Harold (Harry) Phratry would go on to career as a trucker and business owner. He named his trucking company ‘The Red Ball Express’. Elmer Phud became a life long wordmonger, curmudgeon and sometime fisherman. They remain friends to this day. 

Elmer and Harry served in the armed services. Elmer in Europe, Harry in south east Asia. Harry saw combat but has never spoken about it. Not even to his family. Something’s a person tries very hard to forget. 

Elmer did not see combat. He was assigned to a top secrete combat/recon team. His team traveled through out Europe performing missions at the direction of the President. He cannot talk about it. Both rose thru the ranks during their short time in the service of their country. Both, when pressured, will show their metals but neither will explain them. Both get emotional when looking at the metals for any extended time. Both have learned to live with the past.

The Predator

The Predator was hungry. The Predator was always hungry. The Predator was hunting. The Predator was always hunting.

It was a big predator. With large, sharp teeth made to tear flesh. It’s coloring blended in very well with the natural coloring in the lake. It could hide and surprise it’s victims from anywhere. It would devour living or dead flesh. Made no difference to The Predator. The Predator was the biggest fish in the water. He had been here so long, he had long forgotten just how he came to be. The humans tried hard to catch him with hook, line and sinker. They had hooked him a few times but he was big. Too big for the ordinary fishing gear. He carried a hook in his flesh and other scares as proof. The Predator was hunting.

Elmer carried his fishing pole and tackle to his favorite spot along side the Whereyouat River. This was on the outlet side of Phume Lake. As opposed to the inlet side, which this was not. When fishing the inlet side, one would expect to catch fish. He did not want to catch fish. He wanted to spend some time winding down from his last trip. The fire almost had him that time. It did get his travel camper and he was waiting for the insurance to kick in. This was a good spot to not catch fish. Not catching fish was just what was needed to forget, at least for a little while, the world’s problems. He set up his chair, tackle and loaded his fishing pole. He cast the line out, set the pole on the forked pole holder, opened a brewski and settled in for an afternoon of quite, lazy, not catching fish.

The Predator whirled around. He heard a noise behind him. Now he could smell food. His favorite food. Worm! But where? He saw ripples in the surface water about 40 feet away. Was that it? He left his cover, a length of large log jammed into the bottom. He went to investigate. But not a direct path. No, never a direct path. He was too crafty for that. A direct path would spook the worm. 

Elmer reached down, twitched the line a little. A fine tactic to discourage the fish. Or would it attract them? Oh well.

The Predator could see the worm. A fine, big one. He was exited. Hey! It seemed to be suspended about half way up. What kept it there? It moved! And that thing above it moved! More ripples. The Predator dashed for a hiding place. He stayed in his hiding spot for some time. His heart was thumping and his fins were shaking. A close one. As he waited, his hunger grew. He forgot about his fear as the hunger grew. Hunger finally drove him to leave his hideout. He followed the scent back to the worm.

Elmer got up to use the left hand tree to get ride of some of the brews he had consumed, tripped over his pole. The line twitched. Hard. 

This time the worm came right at The Predator. A very scary action. The Predator was so scared it could hardly react. But when he did react, he forgot about the hiding spot, went straight for the worm, trapped it in his jaws and ran with it! It was his! Finally, a fine meal.

Elmer turned back to his chair, saw the bobber go under. He said a few things under his breath. He was not in a mood to catch fish. He just wanted to fish. Didn’t anyone know the difference? Now the line was taunt and traveling upstream to what appeared to be a small log. He didn’t want to be hung up on the log. He hurried to the fishing pole, picked it up, gave it a light yank. Started to reel the fish in.

The Predator felt a not-so-strange pain in his jaw. He had been fooled again. He was hooked! He was suddenly yanked around, dragged backwards. Well, he was no stranger to this situation. After all, he was The Predator. He had been hooked before. He immediately whirled around and headed for his hiding spot next to the large log.

Elmer tightened the drag some, reeled in the line. The resistance increased. Once again the line was going toward the small log. Elmer had enough of this playing around. He readjusted the drag, reeled in the line. This one was not going to get away.

The Predator was really hooked. He realized he was not going to get away. The hook was set good. He put up a great fight. After all these years, it looked like the end was near. He had lived a long life, grew large, had many a fight and fine meal. He had no regrets.

Elmer lifted the fish out of the water, he inspected the fish. It had a smallish bite mark on its side and a very small hook stuck in one fin. It was about a half pound pike. Elmer unhooked it, threw it back. Cast the line without putting bait on the hook. After all, he was just fishing.

The Predator was spared one more time.

The River

The river was getting mad. Mother Earth was constantly messing with him.

Eons ago, she let him live, as an infant. A trickle of water seeping out of Mother Earth. Barley alive for a 100 yards or so. Then, death. The sun dried him up. He was not strong enough to resist for very long. At that point, he seeped back underground where he was safe from the sun with all its heat. As time past, he grew stronger. The sun cooled with time until it reached its present temperature. He grew with the addition of more water from the earth. Then the rains came. The rains saved him. The additional water gave him strength. He began to get stronger, longer and wider. As he matured, he scrounged out a meandering path in Mother Earth. He dug a stronghold deep in the earth by carrying rocks and debris, allowing them to tumble along his backside. Now he was an adult. He didn’t need to go underground for many miles. He went wherever he had a mind to. And he had a mind to change.

He was mad. First he was made strong, then made weak. Strong, weak, strong, weak. A constant, changing cycle. He couldn’t take it any more. He was going to rebel. With the help of brother storm. Together, they would have the strength to change the river. Brother storm was coming. It was a big, nasty thunder and lightening storm. The river was already feeling the result of the rain upstream. He was beginning to swell with a feeling of pride and the new refreshing, cold water. Soon, very soon, he would swell over his banks. He would flood the earth around him, for many miles. He would get big. Very big. He had many brother storms over the past twenty thousand years or so, but none this big. Yes, the river was getting mad.

The animals needed the dryer plains to survive. The plants grew after each rain providing food. Predators feasted on the weaker animals. The small animals feasted on the plants. Birds feasted on the dead. Water was the life blood needed by all. All living things needed the river. But the river wanted to change. And change it would.

The rains came and the river swelled to an enormous size. Many, many feet over its banks. Finally, it was free! He stretched out, absorbing the surrounding land, plants, animals both large and small. Only the animals that could fly escaped his reach. It felt so good! Free at last, he was free at last! He laughed and played, allowed the wind to tickle him into waves. The sun came around to gently warm him. But not for long. Brother storm covered the sun, protecting the river. For a thousand years, brother storm, the wind and the river played and romped. What a glorious time!

Until Mother Earth said enough is enough. She realized the river needed a sense of freedom to continue to be a benefit to her other charges. Over many years she worked to calm brother storm. Finally he was weak enough to send him on his way. She did not punish him for he would be needed later, elsewhere. With the storm gone, the river, for its own protection, retreated back into its greatly expanded banks. It took many years but the river calmed down. It lost its desire to be nasty and angry. It flowed gently. So the river could maintain a sense of independence, Mother Earth allowed him to change course. For the river needed a change, one that would allow it to flow for many more miles, become a benefit to more of Mother Earth's surface. After all this was done, Mother Earth smiled for the first time in a millennium. Her work may not be done, but she could rest for a long, long time.

Elmer Phud pulled into the roadside travelers park. He and Big Daddy were planning to stop overnight, fish a little before continuing home. They parked in a nice spot next to the river. A nice gently flowing, clear water river. As he and Big Daddy stood by the river, Elmer said “I wonder how this river became to be so gentle and nice.”

“We’ll never know,” replied Big Daddy. “But it’s nice here. Mother Earth did a great job. Lets do some fishing.”

The Campfire

The fire was huge. Hot. Roaring hot. It was all alone, untended. An orphan left to fend for its self. It did just that. 

It started as a small fire, much like one a child may start just to see if the match would burn. Ironically, it was started by a match. The one who threw the match is long gone. A match thrown carelessly into the dry grass. Dry grass in a gully. The gully was just west of town. When a hot match meets dry grass, you get a fire. When you get a fire in a gully, it wants to travel. It specifically wants to travel wherever there is dry grass, wood or anything that it can consume. Over time, this particular fire would succeed in climbing out of the gully and racing with the wind across the flat land.

It likes the wind. Wind is its friend, buddy, companion. Wind will urge the fire, whip up the fire so it travels at high speed. Wind gives it oxygen. It needs oxygen to survive. The more oxygen it receives the longer it will survive. Rain, not so much. 

It nurtures a great dislike for water. Water from any source. If it meets water, it becomes a fight to the death. Until one or the other ceases to exist. This fire intended to remain burning as long as it could. It had a very strong urge to survive.

Elmer Phud and Big Daddy Phunk were pulling into a deserted county park. The park was several miles from the nearest town. They were unaware of the fire. The park was unaware of the fire. The fire was aware of the park. It took a bead on the park, and with the help of its friend, the wind, raced right for the park.

Elmer and Big Daddy jumped out of the camping rig, started to set up. They smelled smoke. Looking around, they saw a wall of smoke of to the east. This could not be good, they both thought. Not good at all. As they stared, trying to see which direction it was traveling, they could see flames. Visible flames are never good. Flames is a good indicator the fire is close. Very close. The fire was coming up the road. It appeared to be traveling very fast. Right at them. The park was surrounded by grassy plains. No trees in site to be used as fuel for the fire. That was good. No place to hide. That was bad. There was a very large boulder about one hundred or so feet to the north. That may be good. Without a word, they broke into a run for the rock. All thoughts of camping suddenly forgotten. As they scramble to the top of the rock Elmer uttered those immortal words, “I have gone to a campfire many times, but this is the first time one came to me.”

Soon after, the firefighters arrived. They lost everything. All the camping, hunting and fishing things, not to mention the vehicle. They caught a ride into town. Bought bus tickets for the ride home. They never returned to the park again.