One of the funniest stories I remember is when the gang (Brian, Marc, Phil and me) one day decided we wanted some pears from Mrs. Leo's tree in her back yard. Mrs. Leo lived about a block away. The tree was smack dab in the middle of her back yard, approximately 50 feet from her back porch door. Well, it didn't take long for us to determine that pears picked off of the tree directly were way better than the rotting ones found on the ground. So we did what most kids did ... proceeded picking. Now the bushel basket in those days was created by taking your shirt bottom and putting it between your teeth. That would create a nice basket for each of us that would hold up to 20 pears depending on how oversize your shirt was. So with Brian, Phil, Marc and me we were sure to collect at least 50 ripe pears. Perfect plan right?
Well, picking each pear one by one was taking far longer to reap our harvest than any of us were willing to stand in the possible watchful eye of Mrs. Leo at her back porch door. So we talked Brian into climbing up into the pear tree to give it a good shake. Then the rest of us could just run around with our shirts out collecting the falling pears. Good plan right?
It didn't take long for the commotion of Brian shaking this poor tree (With Brian in the tree it was raining pears) to arouse Mrs. Leo. Suddenly she arrived at the screen door and started yelling at us. Like a deer in headlights, each of us stood frozen by Mrs. Leo's appearance and scolding. But that's when Phil sprung into action - as only Phil could. With his brother holding silently up in the pear tree, apparently trapped, Phil quickly realized he had the ammunition that could drive Mrs. Leo back into her house and save Brian and all of us. Pears! So like a wise gunman he slowly pulled a pear from his shirt basket and WHAM, hurled it right at Mrs. Leo! Thankfully he missed Mrs. Leo but drilled Mrs. Leo's screen door. The sound of a crisp pear hitting the screen door clapped louder than the thunder proceeding a Midwestern thunderstorm. POW! Like the fuse lit on a firecracker Phil's first pear toss encouraged the rest of us to follow suit. Soon pears were hitting the screen door with a frequency and fervor that any little league baseball coach would be proud of. And driven back into her house Mrs. Leo was. After a thorough pounding of the screen door Brian jumped from the tree and the whole gang was off, like a bunch of bank robbers fleeing the scene.
And upon return to base, the Baldwin home, Mrs. Leo had already struck the final blow of this conflict. She had called Mom and Dad's house to share the story. Judge, jury and verdict was in ... guilty as charged. Now I don't remember the punishment dolled out to each of us that day, nor do I remember how many pears we actually made off with. But forever engrained in my memory will be the view of Phil chucking that first pear ... and the comprehensive peppering we gave Mrs. Leo's screen porch door that day.
That's Phil in a nutshell. A catalyst to some of the greatest stories and fondest memories I have. Fun, trouble, and just being kids ... all wrapped up into one.
Two other stories that are vivid in my memory are Phil putting his feet through Grandpa Birchard's garage window and Phil getting kicked in his peanuts by yours truly. But each of these stories are as deserving of space and description as the story I've just told above, so I'll turn to Marc and Brad to contribute one of their stories as well.
Phil, looking forward to making some more memories over the 4th of July. Wear a baggy shirt and bring your throwing arm ... you're going to need both!!!
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