Throwing poop and shoes

I'm no ethologist (animal behavior), but i think fewer primates would throw their poop if they could speak the words: hey you! Spoken and written language is what separates us from the other animals.

Of course, it wont stop all monkeys from throwing their poop, some of them just think it's funny.

Luckily, our brains evolved with the ability to organize symbols into languages that we can all enjoy because i'm sure it's safe to say that our ancestors still threw their poop a couple of hundred thousand years ago. If we absolutely have to throw something, modern man will pull off a shoe and throw it. My mother was a shoe thrower; i don't know if she was always one or she became one when i came along. I was a runner as a five and six year old and mom was forty and --well, she was not a thin woman-- so, she knew she was not going to catch me; put a little sombrero on me and i was Espeedy Gonzales. It was her fault, i would do something "bad" and she would say: wait right there, let me go get a belt! (in spanish)

This was in Matamoros, Mexico before we moved to Texas and before i knew my father who, before we moved to Texas-- i assume, because i never asked him-- was looking for a place to set up shop; he was a shoe repairman back then. He worked in shops in Los Angeles, Brownsville, and New Orleans before he settled in Burkburnett in October 1967. He moved my mother, sisters, and i here in September the following year.

My sisters were thirteen and three; i was seven and went into Mrs. Mullins
second grade classroom at Hardin Elementry. That day i began to learn english and started to forget a lot of spanish; at home i began to learn about my father and about shoe repair, i worked with shoes and belts.

When i say "home", i mean we actually lived in the back of my father's shoe repair shop on main street for about nine months. The shop that i own now where i do less shoe repairing and more cowboy boot making.