Mrs. Beaton's Question by Robert Mercer

Author:Robert Mercer [Mercer, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography
ISBN: 9781773660356
Publisher: Acorn Press
Published: 2019-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Summer was far more enjoyable after that first year at the School for the Blind. I was still very shy and withdrawn, although less so on both counts. My interests had mushroomed to include reading, listening to the news, the latest songs, ball games on the radio, and hockey on the TV. I was more “with it,” so to speak; less fearful than before; and far more interested in learning.

It was the summer that cousins Michael and John Mercer moved into the apartment attached to the back of our house. For the next few summers we were inseparable: a foursome that redefined the meaning of good fun and mischief. We ran silly experiments and explored every inch of the forest that surrounded us in all directions.

We practically lived in the woods, classifying everything from flowers and trees to snakes, birds, and insects. Earl and John were always finding things that squirmed under rocks―things I didn’t like. We ate tiny bananas from the roots of large ferns, made whistles from twigs, stilts for walking taller, cabins in the woods, and every manner of sling shot and wooden cart.

Michael was more a thinker than hands-on, as I remember. He thought outside the box, thoughts and ideas that made me think as well. He and I put up with the snakes and insects―he less bothered than me―but we were much more interested in what mischief might be lurking around the next corner, like smoking cigarettes and talking about girls.

I’m sure John was a scientist from the very moment of conception. He knew so much about stuff I hadn’t even heard of, and, before long, I was interested in science, too.

My brother Earl was the most practical one in the group. He knew what ferns hid bananas in their roots, what berries to pick for making tea, the newest blueberry patches, and where to fish. He baited my hooks and, if you needed someone to build something so that others would come, Earl could do it. He did more for me than a twin brother, helping me to fit in and keep up.

I recall being somewhat of a pest in those days, always falling behind and hollering for them to wait up. But we had lots of fun, camping out, picking crab apples, painting snakes, pouring Kool Aid into a well or making bottle bombs (little ones) by mixing baking soda with liquids and shaking it up.

In all of our time together, I hardly ever mentioned the School for the Blind, people I knew there, or all the things we did. It was that different from home―or so I thought. When at the School, I seldom ever mentioned home. It was like growing up in two different worlds, planets on opposite sides of the same sun.

Once in a while Earl and I would walk with Dad to the nearest lake to fish. Along the way, Dad would show us what wild plants to eat in case we were ever lost; berries to use for tea and what flies were best for fishing this or that lake.

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