Eric's Adventure Goes Bad

By E. C. Unger

After graduating from university, Eric thinks that it's time to get away from formal education. He heads off to France on his own chosen adventure. Eric is a happy-go-lucky guy at heart, and quite content to find work on a French chicken farm belonging to a farmer named Pierre.
From the very first day, however, things go wrong. Eric makes one mistake after another, and knows that this is costing Pierre money. Being a perfectionist, he is harder on himself for messing up than his stern boss. He begins to feel that he can do nothing right and broods all day long over his errors. He begins to wonder if he should just pack up and go home, but being a quitter doesn't sit right with him. At the end of each day, he sits quietly on his bed in his little room under the stairs and asks God why he has to mess up every day. As time passes, Eric is reduced to a robot. He develops a new habit to occupy his mind: from the time he gets up in the morning, he calculates the number of minutes left before he'll be back in bed at night.
Eric endures to the end and completes his time on the farm. Only as he waves goodbye and sees Pierre gazing heavenward, does it dawn on him that this has also been an extremely difficult time for Pierre.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456759537

E. C. Unger

About the Writer Halfway through the last century, the prairie sky was still huge and unchallenged; a clean, clear dome of promise to those who would eventually plan its skyways. The horizon was endless and quiet, still unspoiled by too many white men; and spacious enough to hold a cowboys dream. The empty foothills wrestled westward until they were forced to yield to the conquering Rockies. Quick, cold streams slipped free of the mountains and meandered carelessly through the hills of green where the river willows beckoned pioneers to the land of vanishing buffalo. This was the land of my birth. My parents were among those who, in the opening years of the last century, left the old country, as they called it, and gratefully accepted the hardships of the wide Canadian prairie. I inherited the blessing of citizenship in this fair land a first generation Canadian, born on the wide open western plains, with Canada flowing in my veins. My parents nourished my childish soul with the principles of straightforward prairie honesty, respect for others, and integrity in ones public and private behavior. They expected me to grow into a trustworthy and respectable person, and to raise grandchildren that made them proud. Working the prairie soil and tending to the needs of livestock was back-breaking, but healthy. Cousins, uncles, and neighbors worked together in barn and field, while sisters, aunts, and grandmothers shared the burdens of womanhood. After a days hard labor in the sun, muddy water in the irrigation canal provided cool relief. Days began when the sun came up. They were filled with endless but honest work, healthy food, wholesome relationships, and ended in honest sleep. In my community, this was the norm. Eventually electricity came to the homestead, and hurricane lamps found quiet rusting places in abandoned chicken coops. Now, the flick of a switch could illuminate an attic bedroom at the top of the stairs; bright magic to a young country boy! The telephone arrived about the same time as electricity, and the party line became a grapevine that bore the sweetest fruit. And it wasnt too long after that, that running water found its way through invisible pipes into the house, and the manually operated water pump joined old tractor parts in the tin tub we had bathed in on Saturday nights. But to my chagrin, the new porcelain tub was never allowed more than an inch or two of water, keeping baths brief to conserve the water in the cistern. At the same time, the new indoor toilet provided a mystery for young minds that stared and wondered. Unfortunately (I thought) the flush toilet was for winter use only, and the trail to the outhouse remained well-trodden, even after the first snows! In time, the country road that crunched past the family farm became a highway, and soon the fantasy of television splashed black and white across the living room walls, bringing The Beverley Hillbillies, I Love Lucy, and The Untouchables. In the city, the 20th century was already routine and boring, but on our little country farmyard, it was just arriving! We tucked the innocence of our youth into back pockets, and grew up. Eventually the city became home; policemen were always friends to be trusted; and one was never afraid! Bad things did not happen in Canadian cities in western Canada in the 50's. I worked many jobs, and never shied from physical labor. In every case, to do ones best was not an option. Travel opened the door to horizons my old-country parents could not have imagined. I became educated, sophisticated, urban. I held many jobs, and lived and worked in many countries. I raised my parents grandchildren on other continents. Today, I hope Ive done them proud!

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© 2010,2011 E. C. Unger. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 05/21/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-5955-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-5953-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907920

Printed in the United States of America

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

For My Grandchildren

For Benjamin Charles

and

Aaron Jacob

and

Ella Mary Rain

For Caleb Eric

For grandchildren yet to come

When all you want is for the train to stop and let you off because the burdens of life are almost too much to bear, just stay on board. Remember, as long as you’re moving, no matter how long the tunnel is, the train will take you to the light.

Author’s Note

By the time I was 20 years old, I thought I had spent far too long in the classroom. My deepest desire was to get away, though it is hard for me to say from what exactly. Finding myself at a time in life where I could make my own decisions, I made a quick one. I chose to get away, to France.

The six months that followed were some of the most discouraging in my life. Had I known what was ahead of me I would likely have made another choice. But one never quite knows what’s up ahead and I entered this chapter blissfully unaware of the approaching shadows.

Throughout my childhood and youth, I’d been taught to do my very best and to do it humbly. No tooting my horn, no obvious showing off. This probably contributed to a feeling of inferiority since, in my mind, there was always a parental figure in the background letting me know that no matter how well I did something, there was probably still room for improvement.

But I’d also learned that I was actually quite capable of doing many things well, and confidently. In my own mind, there was little I couldn’t do well if I wanted to.

So I finally flew the coop at the age of twenty and headed off on my chosen adventure. The trail ended on a mixed farm in a corner of France that borders Germany and Switzerland. Because I’d spent many months of my life working on farms on the Canadian prairies, there were no inner qualms on my part in accepting farm work. I agreed to work on this farm for six months. I could never have guessed what awaited.

In relatively short order the word ‘adventure’ lost most of its appeal. Because I could not stop myself from dwelling on the blunders that plagued my daily chores, my world, during these six months, was probably far bleaker than it needed to be. It seemed that I could not go through a single day without making some foolish or stupid or careless mistake and I roasted myself endlessly. I was far harder on myself than Pierre ever was, though there were times when I wished he would have shown more understanding. He was not at all a bad man, nor even a hard taskmaster. He was a young man (at the time, I thought he was old) who needed a farm hand and I was a young man who was not afraid of farm work and willing to work for modest wages. He was very focused on reaching some lofty personal goals. I was very focused on perfection and performance.

Eventually, my days were filled with dreams of quitting the farm (something my father’s son should never do) but the reward for completing my time in France was that I moved on to a farm in Germany where ‘life was beautiful’ – and yes, free of the blunders I had been making for the previous six months.

Today, I’m happy to say that both Pierre and I made it through. I may have slowed him down but in a few short years he became internationally successful in the poultry business.

Except for the last chapter, the main event in each of the following chapters is true. The details surrounding those events, however, have been revived from memory or from the daily journal that I kept at the time. Where both of these failed to provide sufficient details for the story, I frequently created fiction. A number of additional mis-adventures while working for Pierre escaped mention in this story. They may forever remain under the radar … or they may someday find their way into an enhanced version of Eric’s Adventure Goes Bad.

Acknowledgements

Most, if not all, of the events in Eric’s Adventure Goes Bad have been shared among family members. Many of them (the author having been a school teacher for most of his life) have been shared with students just to show that sometimes our lives, for no reason we can understand at the time, lead us through valleys that are darker than we would like. It’s only later, sometimes much later, that we discover reasons to appreciate these hard times.

As I shared these memories over the last forty years, it was occasionally suggested by family members, students, or friends that I put the stories into writing, perhaps because that would make it easier for them to remember what a hard-to-believe klutz I was while in France.

Putting these adventures into print required more hours than I care to admit. There were times when my wife of over thirty years probably wished I would get off my duff and ‘do something’, but she was quiet in her long-suffering. Thank you, Laura, for being patient with me as I consumed hours and hours and hours of time on the computer. This manuscript, such as it is, is complete. Your ongoing support for me in doing what I haven’t done before was deeply appreciated.

My children, some of them living on foreign continents, also gave their nods and encouragement along the way. Keeping feedback to a minimum, they allowed me to at least think that this might be a story. They may also have learned things about their father that they would rather not have known. In any case, thanks to each of you.

I owe my greatest debt of gratitude for this attempt at writing to my sister Karin, one of this poor world’s unknown saints, who added the reading of the manuscript to her already busy days. Not only did she read it for herself, but she made sure to subject her own family, immediate and extended, to the readings as well. Probably more than once. Karin, you went well beyond the call of duty; the sample illustrations you drew for me showed me how serious you were. They motivated me, and though they were not used in this book, I keep them as a token of your love for me. Thank you for your unwavering enthusiasm, encouragement, and support in getting these accounts onto paper. The first copy is yours.

Contents

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

Chapter One In and Out, Back and Forth, Up and ––—

Chapter Two Eric 360, Eggs 0

Chapter Three Unhooking Grapes

Chapter Four Spots on the Lawn

Chapter Five A Brake Mistake

Chapter Six Into the Chicken Poop

Chapter Seven Purple Corn, Red Face

Chapter Eight God Closes the Water Tank

Chapter Nine No More Spots

Chapter Ten My Shoe, Your Shoe

Chapter Eleven The Soup Wagon Disaster

Chapter Twelve Seeing Is Believing

Chapter