This is a guest post from my Mom, Cathy Johnson. Which goes to show that the Johnsons' were not the only crazy people, the Dennee's were right there on the edge of crazy! can you imagine being so angry at your brother/sister that you could get where this story went....oh wait....I've been there.
Enjoy the read, check Mom and Dad out. They do a good job helping peope with horses, Mom just didn't used to be so good with her brothers!
Even though I look like a pretty easy person to get along with, when I was a kid, I was quite the bossy big sister. I was the oldest one in a family of four younger boys. I helped my mother with all my younger brothers as they came along and it was just second nature to me to think my brothers had to mind me.
I had two brothers, close to me. Billy, who was about 8, and Phillip, who was around 6. Phillip was the pain in my “you know what”. He and I were forever at it, and Billy would egg him on. Our parents had a rule about fist fighting, but that didn't even slow us down when we got out behind the barn or behind the haystack. We were a pretty uncivilized little tribe.
One day my Mom and Dad went to the little store down the road about 15 miles. I am sure they were getting an hour or so of peace and quiet, alone with each other, after parenting the bunch they had! They left me in charge of my four brothers. For a long time this had been working out just right...for me!
I had noticed, though, that as my brothers were getting older, and most important, they were getting bigger. They weren't so easy to boss around anymore. In fact, we had already had some pretty uneven fights and I was starting to get the short end of the stick. But I, being the top dog for such a long time, didn't think they could whip me yet. Or maybe never!
I told Phillip to do something and he said no!! And not only that, but I couldn't make him to do it with a few well-placed punches! Finally after much harassment from me, Phillip started to punch back! The fight raged over the farmstead until we ended up pulling hair, bawling, and rolling down into the silo. The silo we had was a big pit dug into the ground with a road down into it so you could load the silage I remember pulling hair, screaming, bawling, and punching, all the time rolling down into the pit. We both knew that there was a hole at the bottom with icky, dirty silage water in it, but we were so mad we didn't think of what would happen when we got to the bottom.
Of course, we both landed in the water and was it stinky and cold!! I think it shocked us out of our anger a little, and besides that, my mom and dad came home about that time. They drug us out of the water, chewed us out and sent us to the house to clean up. For about a week, we looked daggers at each other. But like all kids, we soon made friends again. Until the next fight, that is……
**(Cory here, for the uniformed a silo is where corn, stalk and all, is chopped up and put to ferment and rot until it becomes good feed for the milk cows. I would imagine that water was pretty nasty!).