Harold’S Boys: Observations, Opinions, and Outright Lies from Amid the Chaos

By Mark Gaedtke

If there is one thing Mark Gaedtke does not want to do in life, it is to imagine his parents being romantic with each other. Yet as he reminisces about how he grew up in an old farmhouse in northern Wisconsin, Gaedtke cannot help but reflect on how his God-fearing mother and relentlessly sociable father managed to find the time to create six males and still get dinner on the table every night.

In his collection of amusing recollections of his youth in Tomahawk, Wisconsin, Gaedtke strives to find the answers to lifes most elusive questionssuch as why he considered taking a fire extinguisher to his senior prom; why he changed the name of his baseball glove from Old Yeller to Old Banana Peel; And why that beefy linebacker snarled like a jaundiced badger. As he details the events of his childhood, Gaedtke shares entertaining tales about how he fed his passion for knife throwing with the help of his fathers screwdrivers and survived the steel-toed saddle shoe incident and birthday gifts from his parents who were obviously trying to kill him.

Harolds Boys seeks to encourage others to look at their youth in an entirely different wayand realize that all our crazy experiences are what made us the harebrained fools we are today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475948967

Mark Gaedtke

Mark Gaedtke has written a weekly humor column for his hometown newspaper, the Tomahawk Leader, for more than nineteen years. He hopes to continue there until either his publishers come to their senses and fire him, or he finds another way to avoid honest work. Mark and his wife, Patti, have eight adult children and eight grandchildren; they reside in a log cabin on the Tomahawk River in northern Wisconsin.

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Copyright © 2012 by Mark Gaedtke

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-4895-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-4896-7 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-4897-4 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012916494

iUniverse rev. date: 9/25/2012

Cover Art, Steve Gaedtke

Author photo, Victoria Gaedtke..

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1      THE ORIGIN OF THE SPECIES

CHAPTER 2      SISTERLESS BY DIVINE INTERVENTION

CHAPTER 3      DANCIN’ FOOL

CHAPTER 4      NO TIME FOR NAPS

CHAPTER 5      FIRST GRADE IN THE FETAL POSITION

CHAPTER 6      READING WITH BUZZ AND SHIRLEY

CHAPTER 7      SANCTUARY

CHAPTER 8      BUILDING THE PERFECT MOTHER’S DAY GIFT

CHAPTER 9      MY FIRST BIKE

CHAPTER 10      SUPERKID

CHAPTER 11      ENTER SPIDERGUY

CHAPTER 12      BRADLEY SCHOOL SLIDING HILL/KILLING GROUND

CHAPTER 13      A GOOD FOLLOWER IS HARD TO FIND

CHAPTER 14      WHERE HAVE ALL THE SCREWDRIVERS GONE?

CHAPTER 15      TEMPORARY INSANITY

CHAPTER 16      STEEL-TOED SADDLE SHOES

CHAPTER 17      DREAMING THE DREAM

CHAPTER 18      DANGEROUS GIFTS

CHAPTER 19      THE FIFTH BEATLE

CHAPTER 20      SAINT MOM

CHAPTER 21      WANNA MAKE A TEN-DOLLAR BET?

CHAPTER 22      NOT YOUR AVERAGE BEAR CITING

CHAPTER 23      PANCAKES FOR SUPPER

CHAPTER 24      OLD BANANA PEEL

CHAPTER 25      TEACHING ROBIN TO PLAY THE GRAND OLD GAME

CHAPTER 26      SPRING BALL

CHAPTER 27      THE CHICKEN WHISPERER

CHAPTER 28      THE CALL OF THE HOBO JUNGLE

CHAPTER 29      POLE-VAULTING TO THE HEIGHTS OF MEDIOCRITY

CHAPTER 30      THREE SPLASHES DROVE WOMEN TO MADNESS

CHAPTER 31      NOTHING MEASURES UP TO THE FIRST TIME

CHAPTER 32      HOMECOMING LESSONS FOR THE SELF-ABSORBED

CHAPTER 33      NIGHTS OF SHEAR TERROR

CHAPTER 34      PROM TUX FOR SALE

CHAPTER 35      MY FIRST DEER HUNT

CHAPTER 36      THE WHIZZER

CHAPTER 37      THE CRYSTAL BEACH RUN

CHAPTER 38      MARK HEMINGWAY’S FIRST PARTRIDGE (ALL APOLOGIES TO PAPA)

CHAPTER 39      BRADLEY SCHOOL TODAY

CHAPTER 40      PLEASE, I DON’T NEED A JOB …

CHAPTER 41      AM I ALL RIGHT?

For Christine and Patricia

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I did not produce this book by myself. Several people helped me put Harold’s Boys together, and as far as I know, they’re still walking around unpunished. Below, I will name some of them.

First, I thank the regular readers of my weekly column in the Tomahawk Leader. For over nineteen years you have accompanied me through my ups and downs, sharing in my joys and my tragedies, often laughing at inappropriate times, and crying for no apparent reason. I want to thank you for faithfully reading my columns and never missing an opportunity to remind me that laughter is a light that shines in an all-too-dark world. At other times, you’ve suggested that I seek professional help. Thanks for letting me share my light with you. I love you both.

I thank the staff at the Tomahawk Leader—Patty, Alice, and Doreen—who constantly stay on the alert for bizarre news items, which are the lifeblood of my columns. Bless your impish little hearts. I also want to thank Larry and Kathy Tobin, who own, publish, and manage the Leader, for their unwavering support over the years. I look forward to us sharing even more fun and frolic in the future, at least until you finally come to your senses and fire me.

I thank my dear friend Jean Huntoon, who faithfully proofread every page of this manuscript. Unfortunately, immediately following her corrections, I reached deep within myself and somehow found the strength to insert several hundred new mistakes. Through it all Jean has somehow managed to retain her own wry sense of humor. Girl, I salute you.

I thank my writer’s group, the Train Wreckers—Tom Joseph, Michelle Bergstrom, Dave Brainard, Joey Wojtusik, and Annamarie Beckel—for having the courage to tell me hard truths about my stories when they needed a dose of hard truth. Thanks to you, I am a broken man. I just hope you’re proud of yourselves.

Most of all, I thank my family, starting with Harold and Eve Gaedtke, who set the wheels in motion, along with my brothers, Hal, Steve, Rod, Robin, and Gregg. You are a blessing I never deserved, and I thank Almighty God for putting us together. I thank my children, Tim, Seth, and Emily, for encouraging me to write and to continue my writing even through the passing of their beloved mother. Last, I want to thank the two loves of my life, Chrissy and Patti. For a man to be blessed with two such wives in one lifetime is my most convincing evidence of the great extravagance of God. You both encouraged me to be not only a better writer but also a better man.

INTRODUCTION

I once read a story about a man who didn’t believe in God. However, it was obvious that God believed in the man, as he had blessed the man with a staggering wit, innumerable talents, and a perfect body. Obviously, this is not his story. This story is mine, although I suppose the man in the other story could read this one if he wanted to. In fact, since I’ve already read his story, it would seem he should read mine if for no other reason than fair play. Still, that’s his own business, and I’m certainly not about to make an issue of it.

As for me, I do believe in God. I believe he wants me to laugh and cry and live each day to the fullest because, despite what it may seem, this life is short. In fact, I believe that in order to help fulfill God’s plan for my life he wants you to buy this book. I believe he also thinks it would be nice if you were to give me your new fishing boat. If you don’t have a new fishing boat, that’s certainly okay. I’m sure God wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.

Otherwise, if you find yourself feeling a bit guilty over those missed decimals on your 2007 IRS returns, you may decide you’d like to help out a fellow tax-paying American with a probably non-tax-deductible gift. Still, it would certainly look good on your permanent record, in the unlikely event that the government would be in the habit of keeping a record of your activities.

Okay, so I’ll just wait right here until you get back. Remember, it’s like they say in church, you’re not supposed to give until it hurts. Just give until it feels good. I figure anything resembling the Skeeter MX1825 Ultimate Fishing Boat as pictured on page 19 of the January 2012 edition of Muskie Hunter Magazine would feel pretty darned good.

Most of what you’ll find in this book is taken from my columns from the Tomahawk Leader, one of the highest-quality newspapers in all of northern Wisconsin. Of course that’s a little like being one of the most devout Buddhists in all of Fargo, North Dakota. This book is a collection of stories about my youth. You may wonder why I’ve chosen to do this. The primary reason is that I don’t know you well enough to write stories of your youth. And that isn’t to say your life hasn’t been at least as rich and fulfilling as mine. After all, you’re the one with the fishing boat.

img001Harold%20and%20Eve2.jpg

Harold and Eve, before the onslaught

CHAPTER 1

THE ORIGIN OF THE SPECIES

Harold and Eve Gaedtke fell in love and married not long after Harold returned from World War II, and they soon realized a prodigious talent for producing male babies on a regular basis. It was said among family that Eve was so fertile she couldn’t stand downwind from Harold without getting pregnant. The pill came out in 1965, but by then the damage had been done. Faster than you can say rhythm method, they found themselves sharing their one-hundred-year-old farmhouse in northern Wisconsin with six rambunctious sons.

Frankly, I don’t know how it ever happened. I mean, I know how it happened; it’s just that none of us want to imagine our parents being romantic. During my formative years mine were always playful and affectionate toward one another, but I guess anything beyond that is a bridge I simply do not care to cross.

At any rate, something happened, and my brothers Hal, Steve, and Rod all arrived on the scene within a span of about four years. Then production halted for a time. I don’t know if the hiatus was in any way a criticism of the workmanship, union trouble, or possibly a breakthrough in inventory control, but it wasn’t until six years later, November 23, 1956, that I rolled off the line, looking pretty much the same as I do today. Three days less than a year later, my brother Robin made his debut. To be honest, the older boys felt a bit put out by his arrival on the scene, as they’d been praying for a raccoon. Personally, I thought I’d been doing a respectable job, so it hurt to see management go over my