Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1942-10-16
"Chirps'' ~
from the
Democrats Pen


a 'kid." In those days the word was
buster, or "brat", or ''youngster0 !,
or something like that. But, after
all. maybe kid" is the best word.
looked in the dictionary and found
the definition for kid is "a young
goat; and as goats have awfully
hard heads, I suppose that name fits
the young hopeful Of any generation.
What intrigues me is that, if l re-
member right, whenever there was
any attempt by our maternal or pa
ternal ancestors to bring about a sof-
tening of the "kids" frontispiece, the
power was applied at the lower eX-
tremity of his human anatomy, the
weapon used being a hair bursh,
paddle, a razor strop, or some such
corrective medicine.
But these "kids", or what you may
call 'em! I don't know whether l
was viewing a rehearsal of some OF
my own doings; if not the same, then
some just as bad, when l was roam
ing the streets at their age, but I'm
here to tell you some of the kids"
of this good old Pocomoke town can
take the candy cane for having the
sort of head the goats offspring is
said to possess.
You may remember referred in
last weeks issue of the Democrat"
to the kids and the scrap pile. Hon
estly, you couldn't see the pile for
the kids. Here again was exhibited
one of the characteristics of the
goat-they were certainly good climb
ers. The rough side of that scrap
heap had no terrors for them. They'd
fall down, get several hicks in their
shins, cut finger, or tear hole IN
the seat of their-well, it might be
their pants, or some other garment
depending whether it was baseball
or a rubber doll they were after. I'd
like to see some of those kids attempt
an Alpine ascent. They'd go so
quick it would make that old noun
tain chain think it was sand dune.
But these kids had something else
in their heads besides the fun of seal
ing billy sleeps. Their eyes saw
something which aroused sensation
in their dear little hearts not put
there by any body else except old
Beelzebub himself. Uncle Sans war
condition was only slight incident;
he could have what's left after they
got through totin' as much home as
they could. That pile was heaped
not to make bullets and bombs, ships
and planes; guns and grenades; no
indeedy, it was manufactured for
child's play and it was a special in
vitation to the blessed little tykes to
reveal such instincts as were exhibit
lions of Satan's contribution to the
human race. | held on to my hat
good and hearty, for fear it might
disappear, and put my pocket book on
the inside pocket of my "west-cot"
for safe keeping. Here's just little
incident of their ''modus operandi":
A young lass about 10 or there
abouts was holding in her hand pair
of skates and swinging them by the
straps as if she had owned them ever
since the winter the dogs chased the
Stowe characters across the waters
on floating cakes of ice. You know
what I mean.
Well, l walked up to this young
miss and, with my sweetest smile,
said:
"Those are nice skates except for
a little rust, aren't they?"
Eyes, Sir!"
what are you going to do with
'em?"
"Nothin' -.
"well, how long are you going to
stay out here?"
"Long timeH
"Well, won't you get tired carrying
those skates around with you until
you go home? Suppose you just
throw them back on the pile until you
get ready to leave" And up they
went on the heap, and l thought I had
made myself perfectly we'll under
stood.
I staid around awhile to see the
sights-and I saw plenty-and as
I walked around the pile at safe
distance from the enemy, my foot
struck something in, the rather tall
grass in that corner of the school
campus. Believe it or not, I reach
ed down and picked up those self
same ice shoes smuggling down in the
"cache" this sweet little thing had
made for them. When l had gone
down town, Old Sol had gone down
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