Barnyard muck, Chaucer, the Olympics

My trip to feed the horses this morning inspired me to excerpt the following from my new book. It's from a story called "Stay Outa My House." Enjoy!

Once Bill and I were married, our humble abodes served as venues for kids to gather for such events. Most at-home activities were filled with food and off-the-wall craziness. A couple of times, we even hosted the Mud Olympics.

This event occurred during late February or early March when a walk across the barnyard could mean big trouble and possible expletives deleted. This was a time when foot-deep mud would come alive, turn evil and suck the barn boot right off your foot. It all happened so quickly that your bootless sock, with foot inside, was already submerged in the partially-thawed muck.

Perfect time to bring on the games!

The Olympics, which would pit Student Council against the Math Club or Leohono Honor Society, included such events as mud football games, mud flings, the mud relay and the mud tug, which took place in the really slimy garden spot. The horses, who inhabited the pasture, were never really sure of their role as spectators or participants.

I have photos of high-school kids, like ASB president Hoyt Bonar, holding a willing Willie---who was in grade school at the time---by the feet and dipping him and his white blond hair mop into a waiting pool of wet horse apples and mucky barnyard slop.

The parade and medal ceremony occurred in our hay mow, with Bill playing the Olympic theme on his harmonica as proud but filthy teen-aged Olympians marched between the hay piles and received their respective awards.

All participants also received strict instructions on exactly where they were to remove their soiled Olympic uniforms before setting foot near the house for the potluck afterward. Boys had the barn tack room, while girls changed into clean clothes in the bunkhouse.

Other educators, like assistant principal Larry Jacobson, Spanish teacher Merriam Merriman, and math teacher Rick Gehring with his wife Ann, lent credibility to the event by actually showing up and participating.

We also hosted a spring picnic for my senior English classes to honor Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Using the scavenger-hunt approach, my seniors began their pigrimage by climbing the ladder to that same hay loft where they would retrieve their first clue for where to go next.

Each clue was penned in metrical-tale rhyme scheme with a little iambic pentameter thrown in for fun. The short poem directed them to the next spot somewhere on the place or even in the neighborhood, where a group would read their original tale of modern-day workers.

Often, the most popular stories centered on whoever happened to be the school principal at the time. Fortunately, for me, the lucky central character was never in attendance.

By the end of the pilgrimage, a couple of neutral judges (other teachers like Judy Helton or Gale Hamby) decided who had created the most clever tale. The lucky winners later dined on steak---not hamburgers or hotdogs---at the climactic eating fest.