By BOB BREIDENSTEIN | rural Ontario
“O, what a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive.” — Sir Walter Scott, “Marmion”
Long ago, I was in the second grade at the Mount Pisgah one-room country school. Mr. Seaman was the teacher. There was a softball game scheduled for later that afternoon at Sandhill.
For my grade, there was not a spelling book, but the teacher had written a few words on the blackboard that we were to study. In due time, he would erase the words and give us a short test.
Suddenly he was at the board, and since I had piddled, diddled, dawdled and probably daydreamed, I searched diligently for an excuse not to take the test. I, in a moment of inspiration, came down with a bad headache. Mr. Seaman had an old couch in the back of the room, where he would allow an ailing child to recline for a while.
Time passed, the test was over, and it was about time to leave for the ballgame, and a miracle came to the country school. I was cured — I was too small to play the game, but loved to ride along in the back of his old pickup.
Then came the disappointing news from the teacher. “Bob, you can’t go to the game — you’re sick. I’ll have to take you home.” (Well, that wasn’t part of the plan.) So he did.
I am tempted to say that the long-ago headache lie was the first and only lie that I ever told, but that would be a lie.
The County Line has a standing feature showcasing creative work from our community. Do you have an item (e.g., short story, photo, or poem) to submit? Contact the County Line at 337-4232 or countyline@thecountyline.net.
