When I was 8 years old my family and I went to a state park for the afternoon. It was the kind of park with picnic areas and large ponds with all sorts of fish that you could see from on top of wood walkways that labrynthed their way over top of the ponds, standing some 7 or 8 feet above the surface of the water. Each type of fish had his own sign that told you everything about him like what he eats, where he lives, how to identify him and so on. Well, it was nearing the end of our excursion at the state park when my brother Jon and I were wandering through one of the picnic areas that we spotted the biggest squirrel we'd ever seen! We both started off chasing it, not really knowing what we'd do if we caught it; but luckily childhood is not often plagued with frivolities like thinking ahead. He was a quick and nimble fellow but we were young, full of energy, and eager to formally introduce ourselves to this new potential friend.
We were gaining on it and were some 10-15 feet behind it when my brother stopped and said to himself in a quiet voice, "That's not a squirrel, that's a skunk." By that time I had nearly caught the poor creature; who, despite my excitement to be his friend, turned and sprayed me. It was only after it was too late that I learned my folly. I had to rinse off in the sprinklers in my underwear (a horrible humiliation I'm sure), and then ride home in a packed car with all the windows down. The smell eventually wore off with the help of some tomato sauce but two lessons stick with me from my experience that day.
First, once you've been warned make it a point to warn your neighbors. My brother had discovered the truth about the curious creature but hadn't the time to warn me. If he had, he would have saved me from embarrassment and the family from temporarily corroded nasal passages, but he also would have prevented me from learning this second important truth. One that my father repeatedly reminded me of during my teenage years when choice of friends becomes critical to spiritual well-being. He would often tell me, "If you run with the skunks, don't be surprised if you start to smell like them."
Artist's rendition of a proud, young Travis if I had actually caught the 'Very Big Squirrel'.
I vividly remember this incident. I remember that we had to wrap your clothes in a plastic bag and we hung it on the outside of the car as we drove that looooong hour ride home from Boise. Why we tried to save your clothes I have no idea, but of course, it was probably your favorite Spiderman T-shirt or something. Thanks for providing our family with many or the more memorable moments!
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