I shot the neighbor brat with my BB gun. He deserved it.

It was a sultry day in North Platte, Nebraska during the summer of 1941.  The shadows and heat of the dust bowl still lingered in the air.  I was five years old at the time and had received a new Red Ryder BB gun for my birthday.

While playing in the yard, with my gun stored safely in my room, the next door neighbor kid pointed his BB gun at me and fired!  Luckily for me, he was a poor shot and missed.

Not being of a temperament to put up with such an attack, I got out my unloaded BB gun, cocked it without BB’s and fired at him.

As you might expect, the little cry baby ran to his mommy, who called the police.  When I saw them pull up to our house, I quickly hid under my big sister’s bed.  After all, what are big sisters for if they can’t protect you?

John C. Gable

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My father would save his change from his pocket and put the coins on top of the dresser in his bedroom. I must have been about nine when I wanted to play with more coins than the nickel a week we received as an allowance.

Once a week when no one was in their bedroom, I would take a nickel here or a dime there. this went on for over a month until I saw the biggest coin so far. It was a fifty cent piece. I couldn’t help myself.

Within a week, mom sat me down and asked, “Did you take a fifty cent piece from the top of my dresser?”

My mouth went dry, my hands became sweaty, I didn’t know what to say until she asked me the same question again.

With my head bowed down, I whispered, “I did.”

My mother asked for the coin back and said I wouldn’t get any allowance for the rest of the month. And also had to give up all the coins I had been saving.

From then on, I never stole anything or lied to my parents. This was the most trouble I had got into with my parents besides the time I told my brother he was adopted.

Nancy Nation