"Obama's An Idiot" is where my political bitches now live. Go ye thereto and read.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Mr. Gardner

Mr. Gardner was an old man who lived in my friend's neighborhood. He seeme to enjoy kids, didn't mind them running through his yard to get to their friend's houses, as long as they didn't cause a rucous, break things, or destroy his garden.

He was also a child molester.

We didn't know that at the time. In fact, we didn't even know what one was.
What we did know was that he had a wife, children, grandchildren, was retired and was quite active in the church, as was his wife.

But come to find out, he liked little girls.

My friend had a sister who was roughly 7 years old. She had a friend who lived next door to her who was about the same age. Close enough to the same age that they played together, and with a couple other friends their age in the same 'hood.

But they eventually let it out that one day, they had been over to Mr. Gardner's asking if they could have a couple apples off his tree. He was more than happy to oblige, but told them he didn't want them to hurt themselves climbing in the tree. He would give them a couple apples he had already picked. All they had to do was follow him into the little travel trailer he had parked out behind the tool shed, because he had the apples in there in a box.
So off course, he got himslef a little stink-finger off the girls, and in return, they got themselves a couple apples.

We wondered for quite a while, why it was that when we would want to pass through Mr. Gardner's yard, the girls didn't want to follow us.

Now that was back in the late 60's-early 70's. A whole different mindset in that era, as well as a whole different small community mindset.
Back then, they girls were just told not to go around his yard any more. Parents didn't think of notifying the law. No one wanted to damage his reputation as the nice old man.

Nowdays, the perv could get sent up for even letting kids walk through his yard, not to mention a little fondling in the hideout.

My, my. How times have changed.

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