I was in the eighth grade when my father surprised us and brought home a small monkey. There was a man in town my father knew that had a bit of a drinking problem.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to go on a bender and start buying things. Frequently he would sober up and find himself flat broke, but owning things he couldn’t remember buying. Case in point; a monkey named Pete.

Daddy dropped by his restaurant one day for a cup of coffee and found him in a sad state of affairs. He was broke again, but there was good news. He was the proud owner of a chimpanzee and a small monkey.

He wanted to make my father a deal on the pair of primates, but Daddy wasn’t having it. Finally, he told him that he desperately needed some money to keep his restaurant afloat, would he please buy one of the critters to help him out.

Daddy gave him some money for the monkey but wasn’t about to take the chimp. It had an angry disposition.

The guy told him the monkey, named Pete, couldn’t get cold or he would die. It was winter so Daddy put him inside his jacket, got in his truck and started driving home to show off his new acquisition.

Somewhere along the way home he noticed someone from the farm walking along the road, so he pulled over to give him a lift.

They hadn’t gone very far when the guy pulled out a tin of Prince Albert smoking tobacco and began rolling a cigarette.

Daddy looked over at him and said, “I don’t mind if you smoke but my little buddy may not care for it.”

The guy’s eyes widened and he looked over at my father, “Your buddy? But Mr. Harold, I don’t see anyone in this here truck but you and me.”

That was when my father unzipped his jacket and out popped Pete’s head. Pete turned and looked at the bewildered passenger.

“I’m guessing if you were to light up that cigarette ole Pete here would probably grab you by both ears and kick it straight down your throat.”

As Daddy was finishing his sentence the man in the passenger seat reached for the door handle and started to bail out.

Fortunately he didn’t. Daddy calmed him down and assured him Pete was harmless, but he probably wouldn’t like the smoke.

Mother wasn’t impressed with Pete from the get-go. The only room we kept heated during the winter months was the bathroom, and that was so the pipes wouldn’t freeze.

It soon became Pete’s domain. We loved the little guy and he was a lot of fun to play with, but he had one problem. He smelled really, really bad. Hygiene wasn’t his forte’.

It wasn’t long before everything in the bathroom smelled like monkey. The towels, the washcloths, the curtains, the mats all reeked of monkey.

One day Mother confronted us all, “It’s either the monkey or me. One of us has to go.”

I know it was a difficult decision for my father, but the monkey couldn’t do laundry or cook. It was so-long Pete.

It was about that period in time I began to notice that the girls on my bus were beginning to blossom. It was apparent they were morphing into young ladies.

The blonde that lived near the end of the line and was among the first kids to get on the bus every day. She not only looked prettier than she had the year before, but she had an air about her that was intimidating. I could tell she was intelligent beyond her years.

Or maybe it was that I wasn’t.

Then there was the brunette that lived on Shiloh Road. She was looking better, too.

Ahhh, and then there was the brown eyed girl that lived near the church. She was beautiful. How could they all have changed so much over just one summer?

Finally, there was the dark-haired girl that lived by the lake. When she walked down the aisle of the bus it was like poetry in motion. What was going on?

And then there was me. The skinny kid whose voice was changing and had hair that didn’t know which direction it wanted to be combed. We were all growing up. Some were doing a lot better job at it than others, but we were changing, evolving, and we trying to figure out who we were and where we fit in this world.

Me? I wanted a bicycle.

(To be continued)

Me and Pete doing homework.	The old high school on North Columbus.
Mr. Lewis's Little Store on the corner.	The old football field.
1965?	1953
1953	Homecoming parade about 1964. In the background the courthouse is being built.
Pet day in the park. Who do you recognize? I see Larry Giffin and Cathy Rowell.	On the steps of the old Baptist Church. Front row is George Fair and Benny Fulcher. Is that Mike Daley on the Right?
A day in the Park. Who do you recognize?	A Parade down Main Street. I suspect this photo was taken from The old Citizen's Bank building.
The Young family. Right to left: Guy, his mother Sarah, His father G. B. and his brother Darvin.	Fourth of July. Raford Hagga and Larry Giffin.
Mr. Luther Tate.	Miss Annie. She always had the right-of-way.

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Rick Algood
September 7, 2021