By Dorothea Goodrich Wolfe; Bensenville, IL...from Reminisce Magazine
In 1922, my three-year-old brother Allen and I were playing with our backyard neighbors in Watervliet, New York, when another boy from the neighborhood, Charles, came up to the fence. Charles was a few years older than we were and wasn't our friend.
"Want some candy?" he called to us.
Charles held out a hand and showed us the goodies: three small red balls, one for each of us. My brother, my neighbor and I immediately chucked them into our mouths, and I accidentally swallowed mine. It did not taste sweet.
"That wasn't candy!" I cried.
"I know," Charles laughed, slapping the fence in joy. "It was a marble."
Allen and our neighbor spit their marbles out, but mine was already somewhere in my innards, and I didn't like it. I especially didn't like when Allen told our mom what I'd swallowed and she gave me a doze of castor oil to get rid of it.
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From Fred E. Zoerb; Somerset, PA...
I was born in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, in 1932. We lived in a small house at the back of my grandparents' property, a large lot with a chicken coop. One of my jobs was to take care of the chickens; another was to clean and rinse the bottles of home brew that my grandfather served at his Saturday-evening care games. One time, I had the idea of combining the two.
Saving any liquid from the bottles before rinsing, I poured the leftover home brew into a half-full can of chicken feed and let it soak for the morning's meal. The chickens ate it up. And soon, I saw them staggering around the yards, clucking and d**gging their wings.
"Lizzy," my grandfather yelled to my grandmother, "what's wrong with them chickens?" She didn't know, and neither did I...but I figured I was involved, so I headed to the woods and hid there till dark. Now, in retrospect, I guess those chickens were just drunk!
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From Dorothy Hogan; Pahrump, NV.
When we lived in Southern California in the 1980s with our four teenage boys, we decided to take our vacation trailer to camp at the Carlsbad beach campground.
One day, my husband and I were alone in the trailer when it began rocking back and forth hard enough for supplies to spill out of the cabinets. Assuming the boys were playing a trick on us, my husband jerked open the door and yelled, "You boys stop rocking this trailer!"
No boys were in sight...all of them were down on the beach. And, suddenly we realized that we had just experienced our first California earthquake!"
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