Mr. James C. Bechler

Another thing I remember...

I pined over the fact that my parents let Jim go to Wilson High School for tenth grade, when they hadn’t allowed me to go to that bright shiny public school.

I had figured I could hang around a group of a Wilson boys that I casually knew at the Belmont Shore Jack-in-the-box. (I know, transparent) But, there was no convincing Mom and Dad to let me go to that school. “Its too dangerous,” they said, knowing full well that I knew they were talking about the boys of Wilson High. Now, my bro was ONE of them.

I had a few girl spies reporting back to me, (I was in 12th grade at parochial school.) but since he excelled and stayed out of trouble for the most part, (this must have been the deal he made with Mom and Dad) my spies soon got bored of the task and started dating him. Hrummph! Some spy girls.
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One really fine day, Jim came up with a doozy of an idea--- we had in mind to make a small concrete patio behind a house I was renting from him, and so we hauled in 15 bags of Quikset cement--- I grabbed a hose, bucket, and waited for further instructions.

“We need something to smooth the wet concrete,” my twenty-something bro said.

So he pulled out some scrap lumber from the garage, and built this thing (and I don’t exaggerate when I say “thing”) out of two 5 ft lengths of one by fours. It looked like a 2 handled shovel, with a flat piece of board nailed horizontally down at the ground end, at an angle between the two handles. This was going to be our “concrete smoother.” It weighed 2 tons…

So we mixed 2 or 3 concrete bags in the large bucket and poured them into the square 8 x 8 form he had made out of more scrap two by fours.

He picked up his smoother to place it gently on the slumpy concrete, but it was so heavy, it kinda fell into the wet concrete and sank. He yanked it out only to have it land sideways on top of a piece of concrete that had already formed into a little dysfunctional mountain.

“This isn’t working, “ he said, master of understatement that I always knew the man to be.

I can’t recall what we did next, whether or not we cleaned up the mess …the lumpy mountains and rivers inside an 8 by 8 patio square may still be there, to inspire future miniature golf course executives, sk8 boarders, or just plain imaginers of concrete patio art. ☺

Another thing I remember...

I pined over the fact that my parents let Jim go to Wilson High School for tenth grade, when they hadn’t allowed me to go to that bright shiny public school.

I had figured I could hang around a group of a Wilson boys that I casually knew at the Belmont Shore Jack-in-the-box. (I know, transparent) But, there was no convincing Mom and Dad to let me go to that school. “Its too dangerous,” they said, knowing full well that I knew they were talking about the boys of Wilson High. Now, my bro was ONE of them.

I had a few girl spies reporting back to me, (I was in 12th grade at parochial school.) but since he excelled and stayed out of trouble for the most part, (this must have been the deal he made with Mom and Dad) my spies soon got bored of... READ MORE →

After school, when Jim was about 13, and I was 16, he would go straight to the kitchen and grab a double package of saltines, a half pound of butter, and a spreading knife, and while I sat on the couch, he would prop himself up on one elbow on the floor and feast on those saltines while we watched.... Huh! what were we watching? I was so fascinated by his teenage capacity for food, don't think I paid attention to what was on t.v.! :)

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Another time Jim and I drove up to Arrowhead ---we were young adults by this time---I can’t recall why we were going---just a scenic drive, I think, because he didn’t have his cabin then, nor were we going skiing, because he had brought along his little dog, named Itchy…wait, Peewee? Peanut the First??

Anyway, we were in a hurry to get there before dark, so we were like “come on, come on” when we all had to take a pit stop--- then off we went on our drive. Ten minutes later, it just seemed too quiet in the back seat. I turned around to look, and no Peanut.

Where’s Peanut?” I said in a panic. “Oh gosh, we left him back at the rest stop!” I said.

We hightailed it back to that rest stop, and there doggie was, wagging his tail, patiently waiting for us to pick him up!

Needless to say, we didn’t make Arrowhead before dark…

After school, when Jim was about 13, and I was 16, he would go straight to the kitchen and grab a double package of saltines, a half pound of butter, and a spreading knife, and while I sat on the couch, he would prop himself up on one elbow on the floor and feast on those saltines while we watched.... Huh! what were we watching? I was so fascinated by his teenage capacity for food, don't think I paid attention to what was on t.v.! :)

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Another time Jim and I drove up to Arrowhead ---we were young adults by this time---I can’t recall why we were going---just a scenic drive, I think, because he didn’t have his cabin then, nor were we going skiing, because he had brought along his little dog, named Itchy…wait, Peewee? Peanut the First??

Anyway, we were in a hurry to get there before dark, so... READ MORE →