I suppose I must have been around 13 or 14 when Pappy, my step-dad, decided it might be a good time for “The Talk”. I named him Pappy because at about the age of four, I realized he wasn’t my Dad and so I came up with the name of Pappy and it stuck, but that’s a different story for a different time.

We were standing at the pig pen, just leaning against the fence, Pappy would chew on his tobacco and every so often swallow  the juice.  He never  spit the tobacco juice out, always swallowied it.He thought spitting it out was gross and he claimed swallowing the juice would keep him from getting worms, but that too is another story.

I stood there, along side him, and we were just enjoying the coolnes of the morning and watching the Berkshire hogs eating from the trough, rutting in the spring mud and just doing what pigs do.  The boar pig soon tired of those activities and found himself in the mood for something a little different as he walked over and quickly mounted an unsuspecting nearby sow.

Pappy and I just leaned against the fence for a moment, not saying a word while we silently watched what was happening.  Finally Pappy, swallowing his tobacco juice , looked straight ahead and in a low voice said;  “Boy, do you see them two hogs”?  With a nervous, squeaky voice, I said;  “Yessir.!  Still staring straight ahead, he said’  “Do you know what they are doing?’  With a quiet, but shaky voice, I replied;  “Yessir,”  “Works the same way with people”, he replied, as he swallowed more tobacco juice, still staring straight at the two hogs.

As we turned and walked away, I remember thinking; “Sure looks awkward to me”.  Another six or seven years I learned it wasn’t exactly the same and really wasn’t that awkward at all.
Author Lyn Liechty, Auctioneer
More Lyn Liechty stories can be found at www.arealauction.com

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One of the most unusual or strangest individuals I ever met while serving a tour of duty aboard the USS Banner was a tall skinny sailor who looked an awful lot like a cartoon character named Gyro Gearloose. I don’t remember the guy’s name anymore and Gearloose is what I should call him because he did have a few loose gears, but I would probably be guilty of some type of copyright infringement. This fellow was really pretty ditzy, so I guess from this point forward I shall refer to him as Ditzman or just plain Ditzy. I know some say we should never judge a book by its cover, but when I first saw Ditzman, I knew right off that he must be from a place that I had never been, and did not wish to go. I don’t know if this guy was seriously a bit wacky, or if he had latched onto an ingenious way of getting an early discharge because he had barely settled in to life on a Navy ship when he started telling the rest of us what it was that made him stand out and made him different. It seems; as Ditzy would tell the story, that as a young child he had been helping his mother in the garden. Unbeknownst to his mother, while she had her back to him and was busy pulling weeds, a space ship suddenly materialized, and apparently very quietly, appeared overhead in the skies. Poor Ditzy was about to become a kidnap victim. I cannot recall if these aliens actually came down and physically abducted Ditzman or if they had some type of device that simply sucked him off from earth and into their space ship, but according to Ditzy; he was abducted and taken to a strange planet in an unknown galaxy, where he was subjected to testing with all different kinds of weird experiments performed on him.

Apparently, after several years of captivity and experimentation, the aliens released him back in the garden where his mother was still bent over and pulling weeds. “Ditzman”; I said. If you were gone for several years, your poor mother must have been devastated.” “Oh, no”, He replied, “The years I was gone was in the space aliens time frame. In earth time, I had disappeared for only a few minutes, and mom never even knew I was gone, and I never told her I had been abducted by aliens from space. I don’t think she would have liked knowing that.” I confess I was becoming impressed with his ability to fabricate such
a story. “What about the experiments”, the rest of us wondered. “Did they damage you in any way?” Ditzy looked at us like we were a bunch of dummies and said; “Well no, they never did harm me, but after I got back to earth I realized I had unusual powers that never existed before. “And what were those powers we cried out” Ditzman peered out at us through his thick glasses and simply said; “I can fly.” In spite of a chorus of snickers, bemused looks and muffled chuckles, Ditzy Ditzman continued to tell his story of alien abduction and his power of leaping several hundred feet in what would appear to be flying. All this without a cape or the letter S on his chest!

Everything came to a head one day while we were moored at the dock in Yokohama harbor. It was payday and a group of us, including Ditzman were on clean-up duty on the deck. As we received our paychecks, we either took them inside and locked the paycheck in our lockers or otherwise secured them. Not ole Ditzy Ditzman! Being smarter than the rest of us, he stuck his in the cuff of his blouse and continued to scrub the deck. At least until a gust of wind caught his paycheck and carried it out about two hundred feet from the ship where it lay floating in the water. I felt a slow grin slowly stretching across my face as I realized what had happened and saw the look of panic on Ditzman’s face, and why he came to me for sympathy and a solution I will never know. I happened to be fresh out of sympathy, didn’t have a heckuva lot of empathy, but solutions…well, I have always considered myself to be a problem solver. “What’s wrong Ditzman”, I asked as he came running up to me. “Look”, he screamed at me. “My paycheck, it’s floating out in the water. What am I going to do?” he shouted.  Speaking in a calm and reasoned voice, trying desperately to not laugh, I said, “Ditz; that should not be any problem at all for someone such as you.” “But my paycheck”, he cried, It’s out in the harbor just floating away.” “C’mon now Ditz, you have told all of us numerous times that you could either jump great distances or fly. Now you see that lily pad out there? It’s just a foot or two from your paycheck and all you have to do is jump out there, land quickly on that lily pad, grab your paycheck, then quick before you start to sink, just jump on back to the ship. You will be fine!” The look poor ole Ditzman gave me was precious and I had a feeling I was lucky Ditzie did not toss me over the side as he stormed off muttering under his breath. I don’t know about the rest of the crew, but he never again talked in my presence about his special ability to leap great distances or about the time he was abducted by space aliens. I did hear from one of my shipmates many years later that Ditzie had to go to a Captain’s mast for some reason, and during the proceedings Captain Clark asked him; “Ditzman, Is it true you can fly?” Ditzman replied; “Yes! I can fly!”

Written March 26, 2011
Author Lyn Liechty. This and other stories from Lyn’s past may be read at www.arealauction.com

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Judy wasn’t about to put up with a kid trying to play cowboys and Indians astride her back. I would no more than get settled in, and she would promptly buck me right back off. Strangely enough, she always seemed to find a fresh cow pie, and that is usually where I would land. Like a typical old west cowpoke, I was up to the challenge, and persistent in my belief that some day I would ride off into the sunset on Judy’s back. It was a warm summer morning on the day I decided that I would conquer this rugged milk cow and I would be riding her by sundown. I remember being appropriately dressed for this momentous occasion. Yep! No shoes or socks, no shirt, I was clad only with my underwear and shorts. No sense in dirtying up to many articles of clothing in the unlikely event of Judy dumping me in another pile of cow poop for probably about the hundredth time. What could possibly go wrong? I knew this time I would ride her! Clearly a case of who was the smartest… me or a dumb animal!

I had forgotten there was a large Bull Thistle patch about thirty feet away in the pasture…but Judy hadn’t. I swear she had this all planned out ahead of time. Somehow she knew these bull thistles were far taller than I was and she knew I would be pretty miserable should I find myself in the midst of all those sharp prickers! I think by now you know the rest of the story, but I shall relate it nonetheless.

I climbed on her back and barely settled in; Judy took off running as fast as a milk cow can run. I was awash in glory at the fact that finally I was riding this stubborn bovine steed and she had not bucked me off. My skinny chest swelled proudly with the realization that I had won. I had met my nemesis and conquered her…and then…I saw the bull thistles…dead ahead, a much larger patch than I had realized… and too late to jump off. No problem I thought…”I am a cowboy. I shall ride this wild beast through to the other side”. As we entered this suddenly huge thistle patch, I knew I was in serious trouble as the thistles reached out and relentlessly jabbed me in every place imaginable… and a few other spots! Judy wasted little time with me because as soon as she reached the center of the thistle patch, she humped her back, made an unexpected move, and off I flew; pretty much dead center. No cow pies, just a body filled with painful thorns! Gone was the brave and courageous cowboy finding adventure in the Wild West. A common milk cow had just turned a fearless cowpoke into a twelve year old pincushion!

With tears running down my eyes and not knowing if they were from the prickers as I gingerly fought my way out of the thistle patch, or just my broken pride, I finally got out of the painful mess I had found myself in. As I slowly limped out of the pasture, picking out prickers, I noticed that ole Judy was standing to one side contentedly grazing and chewing her cud…I don’ t know that cows can smirk, but she sure did have a satisfied look on her face and I never, ever tried to ride Judy the cow again.

Yes, those were the good ole days!

Written by Lyn Liechty, Thursday, March 17, 2011
This and other stories can be found at Lyn’s website www.arealauction.com

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I got the best of Big Phil in a cow pie fight! Now this may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but to a scrawny, young farm boy with absolutely no athletic ability, hitting the toughest kid in the neighborhood square in the face with a freshly pooped cow pie…well, that was major league stuff, the type of thing that legends are born of.

It was a typical hot summer day, and for some strange reason, Pappy (what I called my stepdad) had not discovered any work for me to do. A few of the neighbor boys had stopped by, and having nothing better to do, we decided to engage in a good old fashioned cow pie fight. Being out manned and out gunned, I was not faring so well and it got even worse when Big Phil reached down, scooped up a sun dried cow pie, and with his strong arm hit me square in the chest. I quickly looked around for a cow pie, and discovered there was no more. I guess we were all “pooped out”. Meanwhile, Big Phil knowing full well I was going to try to get even, immediately took off for the fence.

I don’t know if it was good karma or just plain dumb luck, because Big Phil reached the top of the fence, and was about to make good on his escape. In desperation I glanced at the cow standing next to me and was both stunned and grateful to see her raise her tail. Well, I knew what that meant…a cooperative cow with fresh poop! Making a quick, but not necessarily wise decision, I placed my hand under the cow’s tail and just that quick I had my hand filled with newly acquired and warm cow poop!

It was like time stood still, I mean talk about a surreal experience. Just as Big Phil made his turn at the top of the fence to see what was happening, I cocked my arm, and I tell you, I never threw anything so true and straight. It was the greatest moment in my life to watch that pile of fresh warm poop slam Big Phil square in the face! I have always been cursed with a terrible throwing arm and could not believe that I had just pulled off the impossible. For the first and only time in my life I had thrown something that went exactly where it was supposed to go. I waited just long enough to see the shock on his face turn to raging anger. That was when I decided on a strategic retreat, otherwise known as cowardly running!

I could have cherished that moment far longer had it not been for Big Phil’s violent temper and the fact he was twice my size. Fortunately I could run like a scairt rabbit while poor ole Big Phil could only lumber like an ox. I guess he finally gave up and went home. As for me, I wisely kept my distance for a time until Big Phil either forgot about the day he was hit with a face full of soft, warm cow poop…or he simply let the anger slip away.

Yes, those were the “good ole days.”

Written by Lyn Liechty, March 12, 2011

The post The Day I won the Cow Poop Fight appeared first on Lyn Liechty Auctions.

Rebecca’s daughter, Gretchen and her husband Rich, along with daughters Meghan and Maureen had been tent camping for several years and at some undetermined point in time, Rebecca and Gretchen had decided it would be great fun if we joined in. Now, don’t get me wrong, if finances were better I would probably love camping…in an over sized motor home with air conditioning, soft beds and of course the single most important item needed for proper camping…a color TV! Truth be known, Rebecca would probably prefer a pop-up camper, but a tent fit our budget best, so off we went to that great retail camping Mecca… Wal-Mart! The tent of our choice was a large eleven by twenty foot tent with room dividers. This was a tent that was advertized to sleep ten which meant there was room for me at one end, Rebecca at the other end with space in the center for all of the items Rebecca had decided was needed for proper camping and also a grandchild or two. More about that in a bit! I am proud to say that I did my part by picking up two full size air mattresses at Sears on clearance. Guaranteed not to leak! We’ll talk about that later!

After weeks of preparation which involved a combination of shopping at stores, attending yard sales in search of camping items and the two women planning a menu for meals each day, we were off on our grand adventure. The weather was perfect with warm sunny days, and cool nights that bode well for sleeping in the wilderness …alongside a couple of hundred other seasoned and tough campers. I was aware we had a possibility of thunderstorms moving into the area and I fretted a bit about that, but when we arrived at the campground and found our site had no large trees nearby, my fears of dying in my sleep as a result of an over sized Oak tree coming to rest on my chest soon disappeared. For the record, a bit of paranoia can be a good thing!

The campground we selected was Sugarloaf State park in the Waterloo recreational area, just twenty minutes away from Jackson, Mi., civilization, motels, and several McDonalds. That alone made me feel better, after all, when camping one cannot be too prepared! Sugarloaf campground is actually quite a nice campground, with a lake, beach area, playground, toilets that flush, showers with hot water and the scenery is lovely to look at. Gretchen & Rich took a campsite adjoining ours and it came with a nice shade tree. This pleased me because it was to far away to fall on my tent and killing me while I slept! For the record, a bit of minor paranoia can be a good thing! Our campsite was on fairly level ground, with green grass and a large storm drain. I remember thinking that would be a good thing as there should be no concerns about heavy rain and flooding. This was looking more and more like the perfect campsite and soon my frivolous worries began fading away! With Rich’s assistance, the tent went up quicker, and easier than I had thought. Although I would have liked the tent to be a bit closer to the storm drain, we were close enough to stay dry, and far enough from the road that we should be safe from drunken campers driving past late at night. For the record, a bit of minor paranoia can be a good thing! Once the tent was up and after we had moved all of the necessities of camping life out of my Suburban and into the tent, the rest of the evening was ours to enjoy, just sitting around the campfire and visiting. This camping thing was starting to look pretty darn good!

Benjamin Franklin once said; “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. I figured one out of three wouldn’t be too bad and so I was the first to retire for the evening. Leaving the sleeping section for Rebecca, I climbed onto the Sears air mattress located in the snoring section, and spent the next few hours listening to the evening campground sounds. First the chitchat coming from our campsite, then voices of old and young alike from neighboring campsites. Yep! This camping thing wasn’t too bad at all. Rebecca came to bed a little later and shortly after the rain came to visit. Well, it wasn’t exactly visiting. More like moving in…uninvited! The rain came down fast and hard; it wasn’t long before it was pounding steadily on the tent, accompanied with explosive thunder and lightening. We learned later that it rained several hours at the rate of an inch and a half an hour and a steady rain the rest of the night. For some stupid reason, I found all of this amusing and lay on my bed giggling senselessly. I couldn’t help myself. It seemed funny to be snuggled up in the tent and feel the mist from the rain come down on my face. Who said you can’t get wet in a tent?

Rich had pitched a smaller tent between his tent and ours and this smaller tent was for Miss Meghan and Miss Maureen. I don’t think this was a very good plan because while the storm was at its peak, Gretchen came in and asked if Meghan could sleep with us and they would take Maureen into their tent. For some reason those two little girls were scared of the rain and thunder. Like a little bit of water was going to hurt them! I guess Rich and Gretchen also spent some quality time together outside in the storm putting a tarp over top their tent. A good son-in-law would have put the tarp over my tent…something about respecting and taking care of your elders. Guess he figured taking care of his wife was a higher priority! Of course, she got wet and I didn’t!

At some point in the evening, with the storm raging outside, and in spite of my leak proof mattress being about half deflated I drifted into a deep sleep. Morning came much too soon, but right on schedule as far as the hundred, nay, thousands of chirping birds were concerned. Alarm clocks are not a necessary item for successful tent camping. The birds are happy to help out! I remember waking up, thankful the rain was finally over. I reached over to the side of my deflated air mattress, now known as an “air pad”, and grabbed my jeans, only to discover I no longer had dry clothes as they were soaked! My groggy brain was not yet at full functioning mode, but I was alert enough to think, “No problem. I will get something dry out of my suitcase.” I soon discovered that everything there was wet as well. I did find a pair of partially dry shorts, got dressed and was ready to face the world. As I stood up, I had the sensation of the floor of the tent not feeling quite right. It seemed a bit squishy, but ignoring that, I went outside to finish the waking up process… and stepped into over three inches of cold wet water! No more groggy sleepy brain and tired body. I was now officially awake!

The heavy rains had left the adult’s tents right on the edge of what was now a small lake and the girls’ tent was resting in about six inches of water. This body of water which shall now be referred to as Lake Wannabee was about fifty feet at its widest, and an estimated 200 feet in length. At its deepest, which just happened to be at the infamous storm drain, was about sixteen inches in depth or more accurately, just a few inches below Rich’s kneecaps! “Honey, you’re gonna love tent camping” began reverberating through my brain as I took stock of my recently acquired lakefront property and watched Rich and the girls having a lot of fun playing and splashing in Lake Wannabee! Well ok; Rich was gauging the depth of the water… the girls were playing!

The staff at the campground soon learned of our misfortune as did every other camper that was camped there. Apparently the staff believed this was an opportune time to tell us our storm drain that I had such confidence in was broken down, somewhere between where the water goes in and where the water goes out. The timing for when they chose to give us this bit of information could have been better. Like when we reserved our campsite would have been good! We were offered an opportunity to take our tents down and move to a dryer spot, but nobody relished the thought of taking down three tents, one screen house and loading all of the other items the ladies had thought were necessary to a good camping experience. We declined that offer, but we did accept an offer of a loaner submersible pump and thus we spent our Saturday pumping Lake Wannabee dry, and making a clothes line between Rich’s station wagon and my Suburban. Seventy foot of makeshift clothesline burdened down with blankets, sheets, jackets and more, made for quite the tourist attraction as most of the other campers went on a pilgrimage to look at us, our mess and of course our newly acquired, but now shrinking lake. I felt like an exhibit at a zoo with all the people pointing, giggling and shaking their heads as we spent the day convincing each other that this was fun, and dare I mention the two young boys who snuck a fish into our “lake” and tried to convince Rebecca that they had just caught it in our new lake…”Honey, you’re gonna love tent camping!”

By Sunday morning Lake Wannabee was nothing more than wet grass and a bad memory. I am an auctioneer and had an auction to conduct, so Rebecca and I got dressed, drove an hour to the auction site and did what I enjoy most…conducting a public auction. We came back with one of our grandsons in tow because we had promised Austin that if he worked the auction for Grampa running clerking tickets, he could spend the night camping with us. Gretchen and chief fire tender, Rich, had a delicious and hot meal of burgers and sweet corn, cooked over a campfire waiting for us, and the remainder of our time at Sugarloaf was pretty uneventful; the kids enjoying swimming in the real lake, the adults relaxing and visiting around a campfire at their now dry campsite. I think this is more like what Rebecca had in mind when she said we would have fun!

I am sure I had a good time because Rebecca told me I did, and yes, we are planning another round of tent camping because Rebecca says…”Honey, you loved tent camping…and I think perhaps I did!

Written by Auctioneer Lyn Liechty
July 12, 2009
This and other articles by Lyn can be found at www.arealauction.com

The post I Do Love Camping! appeared first on Lyn Liechty Auctions.

Forsaking You, Lord God, was his life’s greatest sin.
And he blamed You, Dear Jesus, for another man’s sin.
Telling himself to deceive and deny God’s truth,
Heaven alone knew how he became such a fool.
Even though in his heart, he knew he was wrong,
Ridiculing You, Father, became his life’s song.

Further and further from Christ, he surely did stray,
Only You, Dear God, stayed in front blocking his way.
Reaching out for his hand, as he would slip and then fall,
Giving freely Your love, but he heard not Your call.
If only he had listened all the times that You spoke,
Victory in Christ could have been the lines that he wrote,
Even though he has scorned You and this he regrets.

May his heart know You love him, for his soul You have kept,
Every blessing You have given; May he love and accept.

Written By Lyn Liechty
March 15, 2000

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