The answer: EVERYTHING! My dad, oh my dad, is a welder by trade. Pops and grandpa owned the local welding shop in our tiny little town. He worked on everything from weird off the wall art projects to combines for the neighbors corn field. They would often take most any form of payment (cash, trade, beer) just to help the locals. Yet another reason why I loved living in the country; everyone helped everyone and a mans word is a binding contract.
Well, in case you don’t know, one of the gasses needed for welding oxygen-acetylene. This gas is highly explosive and my dad took full advantage of it. Our Fourth of July festivities were usually heard 5-10 miles away. Pops liked to blow shit up just for kicks but the 4th was an excuse to get crazy. He would fill balloons with oxygen acetylene and tie a piece of LONG toilet paper to the end (fuses are far to fancy). We’d set that puppy on fire and run…fricken fast. The intense explosion that came forth rocked my chest and I’m pretty sure can be accredited for the damage to my right ear drum.
Of course, it didn’t stop there. Pops built a cannon. Yup, a cannon. This is one of the many toys/projects he welded at the above stated welding shop. He fashioned it just perfectly to stick in the ground and yet still allow the gas to fill the “cannon”. He’d shoot anything that would fit out of that thing, from crab apples to baby dolls. They’d go so high up, we’d never see them again. I liked to imagine my baby dolls were being shot to a little girl that had to go live in the sky. In reality I’m sure they were landing in neighbors yards and scaring the shit out of the dog.
I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anything. I was definitely raised unconventionally (I mean how many people can say they spent quality time with dad while standing around blowing shit up?) but I’m a better person for it.
notthepinkstalker 