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Most of you know what a little blonde two year old boy looks like but do you know how a two year old looks after an adventure into a five gallon bucket of corn picker grease?

Well, let me tell you the story.
Ma and I, were washing clothes out under the pine tree. Ma often took the washing machine outside during the summer, it was much cooler. She had to heat the water in a large boiler on the stove and so the kitchen got very hot. I didn’t do much to help because I was only 5 but I got to watch the rollers squeeze the water from the clothes and then dump them into the rinse tub. Ah yes and I got to hand her the clothes pins.

Lyle, my little brother had wandered away from us as he usually did. Ma called to him and he answered on the second call. A soft whimper came from behind the lilac bushes which circled the house yard. Here he come, this little black, thing all covered with chicken feathers. Our chickens were allowed to run free, so there were feathers everywhere. He was covered from head to foot in black tar. He must have fallen down a couple of times because he was feathered also. Tarred and something told us he had used the tar to paint himself, then the summer sun started to burn his fair skin.

Ma whisked his small body up and ran to the house. She ran to the gas barrel and filled a quart jar. Filling a basin with gas, she began to gently scrub off the black muck with an old rag. Lyle had only a diaper on because of the heat. His entire body was covered. His hair was pasted to his little round head. What a mess. He cried and she grimaced.

Finally, after many tears and some inaudible grumbling from Ma, he was shiny and clean. His skin was a rosy pink. His thin wisps of blonde hair revealed a rosy pink scalp underneath. Ma was exhausted and so was he.

I will never forget my tar baby brother. Needless to say "Tarred and Feathered" meant something to me after that.