Look Out Goliath, Here Comes Little David

The Old Man has always loved the story of David & Goliath. It's been a metaphor for the way my life has been managed, particularly the career part. There's most always been some rather formidable challenge staring me down. Most of the time, I've managed a victory to some extent. Twasn't always that way.

The first time I remember hearing the Bible story of how the little kid took out the giant, I had to ask my dad about that slingshot. He did his best to explain the dynamics and I suppose he could tell from my glazed over eyes that his mission wasn't going well, so he decided to show me. Uh Oh......questionable wisdom. We went out into the back yard down near where the back lot started and Dad took out his handkerchief. He sort of rolled it up and held it by the two ends. "Hand me one of those rocks, son", he said. I picked up one from the recently plowed garden spot. It was about the size of a tennis ball. Dad carefully placed the rock in the folds of his handkerchief and began to spin it around over his head. At just the right moment, he let go of one end of the "sling" and the rock launched at least half way down the back lot. "You see, bud, that's how David killed Goliath".

Of course, since my dad was my absolute hero, I had to try this myself. With a little coaching, I got to the point that I was not a danger to those standing behind me, beside me, or in the garage where I kept mis-hitting the side of the building.

Enter my favorite partner in crime, Kenny. Anxious to show off my new found knowledge, I called Kenny up from his house down the street. Kenny was a quick study and soon we were flinging rocks all over the place.

The next day, Kenny and I decided to have a contest. We wanted to see how far across the street we could "sling". Now, we lived across from the cemetery, so the tombstones became our targets. "I got all the way to Jones" I said. "That's nothing" said Kenny, "I bet I can get up to Lawrence". This went on for an hour.

There was a man living down the street who most folks thought a bit strange. My mother referred to him as, "Old Turkey Neck". As I recall, he was a long tall string-bean kind of man. He drove a nice shiny Buick. With great gusto, I launched a rock at the tombstone marked, Watson. Unfortunately, the fates had chosen this moment for that shiny Buick to be meandering up the street. Maybe my arm was tired, or my aim was off, or I was over confident, but my rock went almost straight up in the air and when it came down found the exact center of Turkey Neck's hood. A horrible noise followed by the screech of brakes and the slam of a car door followed.

Turkey Neck started ranting at us and dancing around like Ichabod Crane on caffeine overload. By this time Mom had come out to see what all the commotion was about. Turkey finally calmed down when she agreed that we would certainly be responsible for all damages. She held me by one ear until I apologized profusely.

Kenny and I were grounded for a while, and we never went back to the slingshot. Turkey Neck's car was made whole again, and life moved on. Kenny and I discovered new adventures and all was right with the world.....and then.... we discovered BB guns.