Farm boy Olympics place rural spin on summer games
“You know what we oughta do?”
I cringed. Whenever Cousin Ollie said that, I knew I was about to get folded, bent, stapled or spindled, with a spot of mutilation on the side.
But curiosity got the better of me. “What should we do?”
“We ought to hold our own summer Olympic Games,” Ollie said.
“And do what? Use one of your mom’s clothesline poles to vault over the manure pile?”
“That’d be a great event!” Ollie grinned. “See, Burtie, I knew you’d love this plan.”
“I don’t know what we’re doing, but I already hate it,” I mumbled. “Besides, this is a farm, not a stadium.”
But Ollie was off and running. “How do farm kids spend their summer vacation?”
“Baling hay. Picking green beans. Riding pigs because your dad won’t get any horses.”
“Good plan, Burtie. The pig steeplechase will run around all kinds of obstacles — through mud puddles, around the tractor shed and through the chicken yard. First one to fall off loses.”
Ollie chomped on his tongue for a moment. It’s how he concentrates to come up with his worst ideas.
“Oh, we can strap our feet onto some of those planks by the workshop, tie bed sheets to our belts for parachutes, and fly off the barn roof slopes.”
I shook my head. “That’s skiing. Those are for the Winter Games.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ollie chewed on that. “We could nail bike tires to the planks and make them skateboards.”
“I’m not jumping off the barn roof. Not again.”
“It would have been cool. I know! The Summer Farm Games will feature the hay bale shot put to the top of the hay wagon. And the hay bale clean and jerk power lifting and javelin throw. Plus stacking the wagon — hay bales are like giant LEGO blocks for farm kids.”
“LEGOs isn’t an Olympic event.”
“Then… we’ll do the marathon. That’s when the cows get out and you have to chase them down the road and bring them back. Or the sprint — that’s when you try to cross the pasture in 9.9 seconds or less.”
“I know, I know, because the bull can do it in 10.”
“We can use the fence as a balance beam.”
“You better be talking about the wooden one. I don’t want to do handstands on the barbed wire one.”
“Here’s a great one for gymnastics—walking to the chicken yard in sneakers.”
“Your chickens always peck my toes.”
“Right. Gymnastics. It’s the floor event. You wave a ribbon while hopping away from the chickens.”
“Nope.”
“Oh, oh, here’s one for gymnastics.” Ollie danced even though no chickens pecked at his toes. “We hang off the ladder to pick the apples at the top of the trees.”
“They’re not ripe yet.”
“Scale the side of the barn with our fingernails to change security light bulb. That’s strength, dexterity and balance.”
“And an ambulance ride to the hospital.”
“The two-handed five-gallon bucket lift over the fence. Water trough diving. Dirt clod archery with slingshots. Rowing across the pond on old shed doors and shovels for paddles. Basketball when we gather the eggs.”
“That is so not a good idea.”
“Why not?” Ollie demanded. “We gotta put them in a basket anyway. Three points if you make it from over the chicken coop.”
“And I know how the Summer Farm Games would close,” I said. “We’d get sent to the penalty box.”
“That’s hockey. Winter games.”
I nodded. “But it won’t be until winter when your Dad would let us out of the penalty box. Just in time for the 800 meter snow shoveling event.”
Join Burt on the medal stand at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.