"Daddy, Dar's BEES Inna Gween House!"

Situated in the southwest corner of our backyard stood an interesting relic from Jenks' past . . . the little shack we called "The Green House." We were told that this building, which consisted of one room and a loft, was a part of the first church in Jenks. We never verified that story, but to four curious and imaginative kids, it didn't matter. It was enough that the dilapidated structure held wonderful antiques, a myriad of unrecognizable junk, and just enough spiderwebs to add that certain element of terror.

"The Green House" was simply a shell of what was surely once a very sound, much-used building. It had no door, yet framing for one that hung long ago was still in place. The windows, of which there were four, were for the most part paneless and what glass was left hung precariously in jagged slabs. That glass was promptly broken out by our Daddy, who said it "was an accident waiting to happen." The loft was accessed by a ladder, firmly attached to a dark closet wall, and seemed sturdy enough . . . at least sturdy enough to try to scale. The loft (or attic room) had one open-air window looking East out over our backyard. This HAD to be a perfect place for all kinds of clandestine adventures to happen. It was far enough away from our Mother's constantly watchful eyes, yet close enough for her to hear our screams for help should we happen to get into a situation that called for her expert extraction of children caught in tight fixes.

"The Green House" was obviously a storage building for people who had lived in the big house before us, for they left behind wonderful things! One beautiful object was an old crank-type Edison phonograph, complete with a large collection of old records, which were easily 1/3-inch thick! The phonograph worked perfectly, and we spent hours listening to the music of long, long ago, and actually enjoyed most of it!

Another forgotten treasure we found tucked in a dirty, dusty corner was a coronet, hardly used, and in pristine condition. "Mickey" (brother Jim) immediately laid claim to that musical instrument and spent a couple of years marching in the Jenks High School band playing that very horn.

Old bottles of various colors, sizes and shapes, uniquely patterned bowls and plates, mismatched silverware, and other household items were scattered about, all hiding underneath old newspapers and magazines. Seafaring pirates coming upon a wooden chest of Spanish dabloons could never have experienced more thrills and excitement than the Mayo children each time they ventured out to "The Green House."

One summer day, while we were out happily dreaming up a new use for "our" Green House, we heard a strange, buzzing noise. Noises in a town where you haven't resided for long are always something to investigate, so with ears perked, we set out to locate the source. We searched outside in weeds and bushes, but it seemed to us that the further away we got from the Green House the less we could hear the buzzing. Finally, we decided that the noise HAD to come from within the walls of the house itself, although we thought we had scoured every inch and knew those inches by heart.

We began to surreptitiously tiptoe through the little house in search of the buzz. The closer we got to the dark closet that housed the ladder up to the loft, the louder the noise was. By the time we got within a foot or so of the door, we knew we had zeroed in on the creator of our strange drone. It was time to "draw straws" to see who had the nerve to actually pinpoint the cause of our distraction. Poor little Tim, who was only six years old at the time, drew the short straw. To say that the "straw-drawing" was rigged or that his older siblings took advantage of little Tim's age and innocence is probably an understatement, but I have a way of forgetting things like that!

Tim slowly approached the gaping doorway of the closet and hesitated. Yes. The buzzing was definitely coming from that closet. Trying to encourage him and bring out his bravest side (at six, where is the "bravest side?"), we finally talked him into sticking his head into the closet to report what he could see. Trusting his older brother and two sisters, he peered around the corner into the dark recesses of the closet. He again hesitated, waiting for his wide, blue eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. Finally, after a very long minute, he said simply, "It moving." We were horrified! "WHAT is moving, Tim?????" "I not sure. It moving. It stuck onna wall. It moving."

We could stand the suspense no longer, and finally Jim (the NEXT bravest of the four) decided HE would look for himself. He stood behind his little brother and stared through the blackness at the place where Tim had indicated the "moving" was coming from. Finally, with a shriek, which was very uncharacteristic for stolid Jim, he announced frantically, "IT'S HUGE YELLOW JACKETS!"

Four very frightened and panic-stricken children ran pell mell, piling out of the Green House faster than greased lightning. If an old Kodak box camera had tried to capture that very moment for posterity, the developed product would show nothing but a vague blurry streak with flailing arms protruding from the blur.

Once outside, collapsed in a heap on the grass, panting for lost breath and shaking like fall leaves in a windstorm, Tim calmly asked, "What's yellow jackets?" Sweet Tim, the baby of the family, who was kept at baby-status by his adoring older siblings, just didn't grasp the danger of the situation as we saw it. He was immediately told in lurid detail just what the little varmits are and the horrible damage they could inflict, expecially on unsuspecting children. Without pause, Tim paled, jumped up and lit out across the back yard, ran into the house, threw his little arms around his Daddy's neck and screamed at the top of his lungs, "DADDY!!!! DAR'S BEES INNA GWEEN HOUSE!!!!!!!"

Now, our Daddy was never a man who showed fear at anything, real or imagined. If he ever WAS afraid, it had to have happened many years before we knew him, because we were convinced he was not only the bravest man alive, but also had a wide streak of "daredevil" running through his veins. Those two characteristics combined made the man almost invincible. So a few yellow jackets would never deter our Daddy . . . nope . . . not for one minute!

True to his nature, Daddy came to the rescue, confidently marching across the backyard toward the Green House as best he could with a blithering, blubbering Tim holding fast to his leg, trying to protect his Daddy from the certain destruction that he was certain awaited. Closer and closer Daddy came, and with resoluteness and determination walked right up to that closet without a moment's hesitation and announced to all within earshot: "I'll get 'em."

Now, there's something else about our Daddy: he never did things the way MOST people do them. He always had a "better idea." This time his idea was to capture the yellow jacktets and throw them into the fire. Now you must remember, this was before the days of "knock down" hornet sprays. What we had to spray on flying insects was DDT, and Daddy did not want to use that around his kids. AND, he said, it would just make the yellow jackts mad and make them swarm. His favorite way to dispose of bees nests was to wait until nightfall, then with a lighted torch burn them out while they were all "sleeping." This obviously was not the method of choice in this case because of the structure itself. We'd have a bonfire deluxe in the middle of town if he tried that! So he HAD to capture them . . . BUT IN A GLASS BUCKET???????

Momma was the proud owner of a green, Depression glass bucket that her Momma had sent to her from Houston. It sat on the buffet in the dining room, brim-full of all sorts of doo-dads. On holidays, especially Christmas, the bucket was washed out and filled with old fashioned ribbon candy. At Easter time, you could find paper "grass" and Easter eggs in it. During other times of the year, the glass bucket was home to things like safety pins, paper clips, rubber bands, and more common items. But the bucket was a mainstay at our house, and we knew how important it was to Momma. It just happened that the green glass bucket had the misfortune of being "just the right size" and "just the right weight" to capture yellow jackets. Who would have ever thought?

Momma finally consented to let Daddy use her green glass bucket to catch the yellow jackets, although she didn't understand why a coffee can couldn't have done the same job. He gave her "good" reason, and she finally complied. In later years we decided the reason Daddy wanted to use the see-through bucket was so that the captured yellow jackets could be seen in their full glory by his bug-eyed, terror-filled children!

It was Preparation for the Battle Time.

On the East side of our house stood a brick and concrete incinerator. It might have originally been built as a barbeque pit, but to us, it was an incinerator. It is where we burned all of our trash. Other times it provided a perfect "stage" where we stood and sang for the neighbors (whether they wanted to hear us or not), or sat on starry nights enjoying the quiet. It was a good size and had two side openings, where we could stuff the paper sacks of trash, limbs, or whatever needed to be burned. But this particular evening, it was to be a crematory for hundreds of yellow jackets! Daddy and Jim built a roaring fire and kept feeding the flames with materials that would keep it at bee-melting temperatures. Then, when the fire was blasting sufficiently, Daddy, armed with nothing but the green glass bucket and a piece of thin cardboard, went bravely, unfearing, into the Green House Trenches to protect his family from the Invasion of the Killer Yellow Jackets! Jim wasn't far behind him, but he WAS behind him.

Daddy's plan was to pop the green glass bucket over the nest of yellow jackets, thus capturing them all underneath the bucket. THEN he would take the thin piece of cardboard he'd found and slip it between the wall and the opening of the bucket. Doing that, he would be able to dislodge the massive paper nest and take the yellow jackets, nest and all, to the fire. It seemed like a good plan . . . and it was . . . at first.

Momma and her four prayerful children stood a safe distance away from the Green House as we watched our brave Daddy enter alone. After what seemed like HOURS . . . although it was probably only about ten minutes . . . Daddy triumphantly came through the door, holding the bucket in one hand with the piece of cardboard firmly held in place over the top with the other hand. Inside the green glass bucket we could see the writhing, ferocious, insanely angry yellow jackets trying to sting everything within reach, including each other! It was one of the most terrifying sights we'd ever seen. But our Daddy was unscathed! He was safe! And he had conquered!

We all walked with him, ooooh-ing and aahhhh-ing at his trophy, but as he approached the roaring fire, we all stood back once again. What if one of them got away?????

He stood in front of the flames for a minute or two, probably both for effect and trying to figure out the best way to empty the precious glass bucket of yellow jackets quickly enough so that they couldn't get away. Finally, with a wild underhanded pitch, he threw . . . and the crazed, undulating mass of yellow jackets along with their huge nest smacked right into the SIDE of the incenerator, about three inches off to one side of the opening! Daddy had MISSED!!!! It was at that precise moment in time we all learned that our Daddy was ALSO quite a good dancer as he fought with whirling-dirvish motions to keep these hell-bent-bees away from him.

We all ran frantically at break-neck speed into the house, slammed and locked the doors, locked the windows, and even turned off all the lights! I don't know why we did that, but it seemed like a good idea to us. We were screaming, crying, shaking and hiding under any piece of furniture that would protect us. Even Daddy was shook up. But by some miracle, not one of us got stung!

And Daddy, proudly and with hair standing straight up on end, held out his hand and exclaimed, "Well, at least I got the bucket!!"

And he had. Momma had her bucket back, the nest was gone out of the Green House, and somewhere, in some remote place in Jenks, there were hundreds of dazed, confused yellow jackets, wondering just who that crazy, dancing man with the green glass bucket really was!