Livin' in the Sixties

There were eight of us. Kids, I mean. My brother and I were about a year apart so we hung out together. He was mischievous and creative, in other words fun to be with! However, I never knew how much trouble he would find at any given moment. I remember the sizzling hot summer day he convinced me to cool off in the cistern. This was a building that looked like any other except the half door only opened on the top because the lower part of the building was lined in cement and was full of water used to feed cattle.

We were straddling a rough old board in the cool dark building with our feet dangling in the murky water, when out of the corner of my eye I saw something about the size of a cat bobbing toward me. Upon closer inspection i saw it was not a cat, but a dead, bloated rat! Wait! There were two of them! Letting out a terrified scream, I propelled myself up and out that half door and landed hard on the grass. My brother was close behind yelling, "Don't tell Mom, don't tell Mom!" It took some fast talking to keep me from heading for the house to tell Mom we were infested with dead rats. That image of the rat was emblazened on my brain permanently. Curiously this didn't stop me from listening to his next great idea.