Beans In My Ears

All of us have done some pretty silly things in our lives. Not hurtful or mean, just plan stupid. Of all my remarkably brainless antics one has been the biggest secret. (Till now.)

Mom and dad would often take my little sisters with them on errands and leave me at home alone. Maybe they trusted me at nine years old, possibly I aggravated them with my constant barrage of questions about everything, but more probably it was just more convenient. Possibly it was because parent’s attitudes were different in an age where 3 children was the norm, two and a spare. Whatever the reason I always found some way to get into trouble.

On one occasion my Home Alone moment was to jump up and down on our brand spanking new sofa. Needless to say I busted one of the wooden legs and panicked at the thought of facing my father's wrath. Under considerable time pressure I came up with a solution. With all the strength I could muster I lifted the corner of the sofa and sat it back down upon the broken leg. Amazingly it held.

When my parents returned home the whole bunch of them jumped onto our new comfy couch. Dad, mom, and both my sisters got a big surprise when the thing collapsed. In character, dad threw an amazing fit. In less than an hour he'd gone to the furniture store and brought back a replacement leg.

All was well. I'd not been detected. My success made me even more daring.

In those days televisions had vacuum tubes instead of circuitboards. they often fried out and you could sometimes even smell them going bad. TV repairmen made a killing from those willing to trust someone whose vocation placed them just below car salesmen and con men. They'd come yank out a half dozen tubes to take back to their shop to supposedly test. After an hour or so they were likely to come back smelling like cheap booze and tell you it would cost a week's pay to fix the old Philco. Well, my dad wouldn't put up with such expensive nonsense.

During an episode of "Hogan's Heroes" our TV began to act up. First the picture began to roll. Next the horizontal hold went out and sideways lines screwed up the picture. The hardware store where he tested the old tubes and bought new ones was closed. His solution was to have me play antenna boy till my bedtime. After that the TV took a good pounding.

The next day dad yanked the back off the big beasty and pulled out every possible culprit, including those replaced just a few weeks before. Mom got my sisters together and everyone headed for the car. I hung back to see if dad yelled at me to get my ass moving, or if they'd kinda move off as if they only had two kids. It worked and they left without me.

The previous episodes of Tony Unleashed found me pursuing a new diversion, refrigerator jumping. Like always I checked the clock, cranked up the Grundig floor console hi-fi so loud the speakers shuttered and rattled, and went off looking for trouble. In no time I perched on top of our Frigidaire ready to jump.

Why this fascinated me I have no idea, but I could get in dozens of jumps before worrying about the return of no fun big people. You may think you see what's coming but that's impossible. I didn't break my leg. I didn't smack my head against the counter. No, I didn't even tip the fridge and spill ou the contents. All I did was listen to the radio.

An old tune called "Beans In My Ears" played on the new fangled FM station I'd found. While singing the chorus with the radio a second time I came to a huge realization. Atop the refrigerator my mother had placed a bag of soup beans (pinto beans to you non-mountain folk.) The bag was torn at the corner and a couple of the little fellers just stared back at me.

Yep, I put one into each auditory crevice and jumped off the refrigeratorr again. Since I put them in only half way I was certain of getting them back out, but when I hit the tiles with my fingers on the beans I pushed them in just a bit further.

Common sense told me to do nothing and wait for help. Reality told me different. My father had a ferocious temper, and my mother would be certain to tell every women whose husband was in the Air Force. Word would get out and I'd be shamed forever. So I did as any kid would have done under those circumstances, I pushed them completely into my ear canals.

For the next six months my father got angry with me a little more often.

"That boy had better learn to listen!" he'd tell my mother while staring at me.

"What's WRONG with you?" He'd ask wondering what kinda weird kid he'd helped hatch.

"I've got beans in my ears!" I'd sometimes tell him. He thought the words to the old song had given me a lame excuse. Time passed, we moved to Hawaii from Texas, and I could hear no better in the new time zone.

One day he got fed up and lost his temper with my excuse. Well, I really couldn't hear very well and I finally explained rather than take a pounding.

"Dad! I really DO have beans in my ears."

He looked and didn't know whether to smack me or what. Mom laughed too hard to make any contribution for the half hour dad tried to dig 'em out or find some answer to why God had given him such a creature to keep trying his patience. Giving up he took me to Tripler Army Hospital's emergency room.

A little ashamed he told the nurse what I'd done. I didn't have to wait long. Every damned doctor and nurse in the hospital came to see me examined. Somebody made a fortune selling tickets. A SURGEON stepped out of the giggling mass of labcoated professionals, placed me on a guerney and started to put a small scalpel to me left earhole. He paused, started snickering, then suddenly burst into laughter. You know, the kind where you tear up and thick snot runs out your nose. Some of the audience joined him.

He was nice enough to compose himself and apologize to me. He could see I was nearly in tears. So in short order he sliced each bean in half and pulled thm out. The doctor suppressed a snicker when he showed my dad that one had sprouted. Mortified, my father thanked the doctor, got me back to the car, and stared at me the whole way home, looking at the road only when necessary. Every fifteen seconds or so he'd just shake his head.

My younger sister was in second grade at my school. I've been eternally grateful she didn't do as oh so many little sisters would have. She kept my secret, not letting anyone in on it. She did this out of concern for me rather than out of embarrassment. Neither mom nor dad told anyone either although I think their motives were a little more uncertain. Who could blame them. They didn't want to hear "Oh, look those are the people whose kid stuck beans in his ears!" Remember they were products of the fifties. If every kid had done it then okay, but not just their only son.

Although no one knew, I did. It bothered me for awhile till another kid at school did something similar but worse. He was a Hawaiian kid whose parents didn't trust the banks, and whose little sister wasn't as thoughtful. They'd bought pearls as savings. He'd found the family fortune and shoved them all up his nose.

Somehow this made me feel better. I didn't join in the razzing the other kids gave him. Instead I made a friend and dicovered a lot I didn't know about the people of Oahu.

Some might think I still have beans in my ears as well as I don't listen. But I would like like to hear your tales of daring do. Veggies are optional.