Not Boo A...

I have five brothers. The closest in age to myself is seven years older. The next one is eight years younger. It is this one that I have spent the most time living with while younger. My aunt gave him a nick name when he was very young; Boo. It was customary to say his name followed by the moniker Boo. Over time it was shortened to simply Boo. When I was in high school and he was in the last states of Elementary 6th or 7th grade, he started to participate in our church's youth group along with myself. Now, as I have mentioned, he is eight years younger than myself. This eliminated a lot of the sibling rivalry that can happen when born close together. I always see him as someone watching me, looking at me as an example. I have been told that my brother was quiet cute. I never took this one way or the other because I considered my view of him either biased or skewed. Our church youth group would take a trip during the summer for about half of one week and go on a mission trip. One particular summer we teamed up with a church in the next town which had a youth group that was mostly made up of females. Many of which were my brothers age. It turns out that a few of them had a crush on him but I was not aware. The rooming situation fell with my brother and I, along with one of my best friends (we'll call him Andrew) staying together in one room. So we are getting ready for bed, my brother is already dosing while watching TV. My friend Andrew begins to talk with me in code about the girls that have a crush on my brother. We do a fine job of talking in code and Boo not understanding or picking up on it, partly due him being half asleep. At one point, Andrew slips and says Boo by name. To which my brother stirs and says "Are you talking about me?" To which Andrew responds "Oh no, Boo. Not you. We are talking about some other Boo. Boo-B." To which my high school mind instantly begins to snigger. I grin really big at Andrew and ask if he realized what he just said. His face, instantly becomes puzzled as he thinks back to what he said. I can see the wheels turning in his head and wondering if he gave more away than the fact that we were talking about Boo, and then it hit him! "Boo B" To which we both laughed and clarified to Boo that he was not Boo-B but rather Boo-A. So now his nickname evolved from Boo to Boo-A. This became a running gag, to which my brother quickly caught on. We went around constantly saying his name and introducing him as Boo-A, hoping that someone would ask the question.
Most got it up front and simply saying "Boo-A" was enough for a chuckle or giggle. It was not until later that we were at another church function, a lunch were all the youth were going outside to throw around a ball behind the Fellowship hall. Someone yelled, "Hey come on down Boo-A". This prompted another youth group member to shout the question we have been waiting for, "IS THERE A BOO B???" Instant realization swept over him and he knew that he messed up. The only sound heard after this question was the cackling of my church youth group!

Here is to you, Boo A

Where there is smoke...

As a child, I did a lot of dumb things. But in my defense I had seen a lot of dumb things done by others. Given that these were the role models I had around, it is quiet amazing I'm even alive. One of the things that I have always been told was not to play with fire. Too bad no one every demonstrated this. It also did not help that my step-father sold fireworks when I was kid. One of my earliest memories from childhood was setting off fireworks at my home on the Fourth of July. I have always been attracted to flames. (Just an FYI, in case anybody was starting to worry, I am not cruel to animals, and in regards to bedwetting, well 2 out of three ain't bad.)

Let me start of describing an incident were I was shown how not to work with fire. When I was in younger, I went to my friends house for New Years. His old brother had some friends over as well and they all had the idea to deck out a friends car with fireworks. My friends and I, wanting to participate with these old guys, helped them with this. With the aid of tape, we were able to adhere a large number of fireworks to his car. He got in and prepared to drive it down the drive way. One, two, three, and everyone began to light their own portion of the car. Almost in unison, the firework fountains and sparklers all ignited. This crazy guy began to drive this car that was almost consumed in sparks down the driveway. Now, I have always tried to make connections when new information is presented to me. I take in new sensory data and think about what it reminds me of from previous experience. I remember thinking to myself that we needed to try to get it up to 88 miles per hour and it could have been just like the DeLorean from Back to the Future.

Now, this did nothing to teach me the proper way to work with fireworks or fire in general. And the fact that I make connections did nothing to help as well. Every year since I was 8 years-old, my step-father would put on a fireworks show in our hometown for the Fourth of July. One year, when I was about 12 years old, I was given the job of shooting the bottle rockets at dusk before the real show began. I was excited. I had my parents purchase a grill lighter for me so that I could do it without getting burned. Early in the day, I went to the van with the fireworks and began to organize and lay out which rockets I would shoot and in which order. Here is when a connection crosses my mind. I had watched Toy Story that afternoon, as well as went to Burger King for a Kids Meal. I had a spaceman toy in my pocket. Now, many of you who have seen this movie knows exactly what I am thinking about at this point. If you don't, I had realized that, like a character in the movie, I could send my spaceman into orbit with these rockets. The only problem was that these rockets were not strong enough to lift the spaceman...by themselves. I took about six different rockets, taped them around the spaceman with electrical tape, and rigged the fuses to light from one main fuse.

Dusk had arrived. I was given a metal pipe in the ground to start shooting the rockets. After a dozen or so, I decided it was time for launch. I brought out my "Rocketman" and put him in position. Everyone else that was helping with the fireworks were standing at the back of the open van, preparing for the show. I was pretty far away so that they could not see what I was doing. I even did a countdown. T-10 and counting...My half a brain did not realize that this spaceman was still a little too heavy for the thrust I had for him. I lit the fuse, they all ignited at the same time, and the rockets began to rise, but only for half a second, then the weight of the spaceman sent them on a course parallel with the ground. Flying about 4 feet above the ground, it flew toward the back of the van with all the fireworks in it. Older folks ran and dove faster than  I have ever seen them go. The rockets missed the open doors of the van by only a foot, sliding past the van then exploding. I stood there mouth open, eyes wide. Needless to say, my half a brain was not allowed to help for the rest of the night. :)

Before there was a Fruit Ninja, I was

Why do we do the things we do? Especially when we were younger, we tend to do some very dumb things. I work in a middle school and I think an asst. principal once said it best. He was talking to a student who was in trouble because they had done something wrong because someone else told them to do it. The asst. principal began to explain to this eighth grader how long it takes for our brain to finish developing. He explained how it does not usually finish until a person is around 22 years-old. Then he flat out says, "Why would you listen to someone who only has half a brain?!?!" Well, the question is answering itself. Because they only have half a brain. :) Maybe this is why we do dumb things. As for me and my friends, at this point in our lives, I think the 5 of us only had half a brain between us. Here is an example of the "brilliant" things we could come up with:

I have been collecting swords since I was in high school and old enough to buy them on my own. My parents, they new better than to buy them for me. The first sword I bought was a Highlander replica sword. I was young and foolish so I did two very unwise things; first, I kept the sword very sharp and second, I kept it in the trunk of my car along with other odd things. This will come to play.

On the last day of school before Winter Break, I was presented with a box of fruit I had bought from the FFA in order to impress a girl. I was given a box of oranges. I put those in my trunk. After school, we went bowling since school dismissed early. We bowled and were trying to find something else to do. Then an idea popped in my head. I don't know why it did. I don't know how, but before I knew it we were throwing fruit in the parking lot and cutting it with my sword in midair. We also had one of my friends photographing this stupidity. After we had went through a good portion of the box and were littering the parking lot with orange halves. Another idea popped into my head. I then pulled out a baseball bat from the trunk of my car, and decided it would be fun to hit the oranges with this. This made a much larger mess as they exploded upon impact with the bat. Now the parking lot was filled with orange halves and orange pulp. We finally became bored with this and went home. I am very surprised we were not asked to leave at the least. Looking back, I fully agree they probably should have called the police to come and scare us.