Tuesday, December 6, 2022
By Buddy (John) Neville,
Bud and Ken “The Wonder Years”
When I moved to our home on 9th street I was 6 years old and Kenny who lived almost directly behind me was 5. We were cousins but immediately became best buds spending the next 7 or so childhood years together almost inseparable. I call them the Wonder years because it’s a wonder we made it out alive. Our fun filled activities included:
- “Nail Fights” - flinging 16 penny nails at each other in his garage
-hunting black bear with BB guns up at The Farm
-when no Bear could be found shooting each other instead
-jumping our mini bikes at full speed over a massive hump landing precisely between 2 trees. Evil Kineval had nothing on us.
- Poison Plant festivals. Somehow finding every poison Ivy, Oak and Sumac patch on the 80 acres of land at the farm. Poster children for calamine lotion.
-How about daring each other to drink the waste water coming out of the steel factory pipes that drained into the creek down the street….recalling the funky taste makes me cringe to this day
-Last but not least every Summer around July we blew up everything we could find with M80’s, Cherry Bombs and Trash Cans. All of those poor frogs such a horrible demise
There were lot’s of cuts and bruises, some broken bones countless bloody noses but all in all no permanent damage.
Then came the consequences for much of our crazy behavior. My Dad (Uncle Jack) was the ultimate family enforcer. Attempting inflicting pain as a deterrent which for the most part didn’t work or lasted a short period of time. More often than not we got caught in the middle of these shenanigans. As big as Uncle Jack was he was equally as sneaky so we never really saw him coming. Like the old saying goes to avoid being eaten by the bear just run faster than the next guy. Fortunately for me I was a little faster than Kenny and it was mostly him that got the first whooping. I must admit though Kenny employed the perfect method of self defense. Similar to the famous Brazilian Ju Jitsu fighters who fought on their backs Kenny also perfected this technique. My Dad would try to swat him with a plastic snow shovel and Ken would block each blow until finally the shovel broke or my Dad just got too exhausted and huffed away puffing furiously on his cigar. There are so many more episodes to our Wonder Years story that could fill an encyclopedia. Time is indeed a thief but fond memories like these can never be taken away.
I both laugh and tear up as I write this. I remember those Days and my time with Ken as some of the best in my life. Although our adolescent years and beyond sent us different ways there was never a harsh moment between us. Whenever we saw each other there were always two big smiles and a recognition that we shared a bond that could never be broken. I loved him dearly and he was not just my Cousin but my Brother. I’ll cherish these memories until we meet again with the rest of our clan on the other side. God Bless him and them all.
