Deductions
Deductive Reasoning
Don't know who to blame, nope, for the following trait --
Hal Finnell, Grandpa Gibson, or Dad …
I've often used logic to figure things out
For the most part, I haven't done bad.
The instance I'm thinking of happened in June,
That's the day after I married Faye --
Bud had threatened to jump-start our honeymoon night
in a typical Byrd-like display
Singing songs, telling jokes, nothing sinister -- no,
Just enough to make mem'ries that'd last --
So he vig'lantly stalked our new getaway car
Fig'ring we'd have to come out at last!
But we didn't. Being wise to his plan, we regrouped,
Borrowed Nancy and Ted's set of wheels
Made a clean getaway through the lilacs out back
Zigzagged back and forth, suppressing squeals!
Bud spent all of that evening just calling motels
Where he thought we'd successfully hid
Apparently Harmony -- (no traffic lights)
Was beyond his elaborate search grid!
Next morning we drove back to pick up the car
That John Sanders had offered to loan
There was water all over the porch and few souls
To explain why those there were so zoned.
My brothers were gone, so were Sanders and friends
'Bout the only one there was my dad.
He was looking around the front yard by the porch.
By his looks I could tell it was bad.
"Your mother and Bud were both shot here last night.
They're both now in their hospital gowns.
The shooter unloaded his pistol at us --
I'd say probably five or six rounds."
"Where from?" I asked quizzic'ly. "Where did he stand
When he fired the shots up at the porch?"
Dad pointed, I traced the shot to the front steps
Where a bullet had left a slight scorch.
Actu'ly two marks had formed a small "V" in the steps
Where a bullet had ricocheted there.
Dad was hoping to find it for evidence, only
He couldn't seem to pinpoint just where
It had landed. I mentally pictured the scene:
If he shot it from there over here,
The angle it bounced with the relative speed
--
It seemed obvious -- or at least clear --
"It would have to have landed along this straight line."
I walked over to where it would start,
Then followed it out toward the street just a bit --
I bent down, pulling grass blades apart.
There it was -- just a pellet, all crumpled and bent,
But enough for my dad to exclaim:
"Well for cat's sake!" (his fav'rite expression back then,
Not an expletive, rather quite tame!)
Another deduction took place in first grade --
Miss Sheldon, our teacher, took part.
Pom-Pom-Pullaway (Who knows how games get their names --
Or even how they got their start?)
The rules were quite simple, whoever was "it"
Would stand between you and the goal --
In our case we just touch the far wall of the gym
Trying hard to avoid the main troll.
At first that meant dodging the one who was "It"
But whoever "it" caught could catch too.
As one might expect -- with each passing run
The troll's group might just overwhelm you!
On this day in question I'd managed to weave,
And avoid getting caught as they grew
Until everyone else was of troll-stripe but me
And against all odds, everyone knew
There was no way to beat those unbeatable odds!
It was twenty-plus something to one --
The main troll called "Pom-Pom" -- all eyes were on me
As we each shifted into a run.
To the left, then the right, and a fake in between
Kids were swarming like flies, but delayed
I had managed to get around most of them -- Yay!
But just one held out her arm like a blade --
The only way forward, for me to succeed,
Would be through Miss Sheldon's bare arm
That was leaning against the side wall, quite relaxed
She showed no sense at all of alarm.
"I got this," she said to the rest of the class
As the seconds ticked down to my doom
The kids had lined up to her left -- no hope there
Envisioning me in my tomb --
At the very last second I noticed a flaw --
A small crack in Miss Sheldon's defense --
I dropped to the floor, sliding into home plate,
just below her arm, locked in suspense.
The look on her face, amplified twenty times
On the faces of all of my peers
One of shock -- pure dismay -- unbelievable pain --
Has stayed with me for all of these years!
For the first time in history (at least at our school)
Pom-Pom-Pullaway didn't have an end.
Time for recess was over -- the victory was mine!
Thinking logic'ly now was a trend!