The kid next door
One of my best friends while I was growing up in Marysville was a kid named Fi McAllister. His real name was Richard, but everyone called him Fi. The “i” in Fi was a long i (pronounced eye). For several years Fi and I lived next-door to each other, and we spent many hours playing together … in my backyard, in his backyard, and all over town.
Fi was a smart kid, and he loved American history, especially the Civil War. In fact, I think he knew more about the Civil War than most history teachers. All you had to do was name a battle, and he could tell you all the details about it. I had a pretty good collection of toy soldiers, and sometimes we would take them into my backyard and re-enact battles. Of course, my lead soldiers were all dressed in World War I uniforms, but with a little imagination that was not a problem.
At one point, Fi got the idea that it would be fun for us to make our own powder horns, like the ones soldiers used to carry their gunpowder. He said there was a slaughterhouse on the Delaware Road across from the Children’s Home. It would perhaps have some steer horns which we could use to make them. We rode our bikes out there with high hopes, but the man we talked with couldn’t help us. He did give us a couple of malformed goat horns, but they clearly were not “powder horn quality.”
Fi’s dad owned and operated an appliance store on West 5th St., just across the alley from Butler’s Restaurant. Fi and I got a shipping box from one of the refrigerators and brought it home. We laid it on its side on my back porch, facing the backyard. Then I found an old curtain rod box which we placed across the box at a right angle. Aha … with a little imagination it made the perfect Army Air Corps bomber for kids to play in.
We made a lot of bombing raids in that “plane.” First we flew it over Europe and we bombed the daylights out of Berlin. We destroyed their aircraft plants. Then we attacked their airfields and shipyards. Take that you dirty Nazis. The next day we were in the Pacific, where we sunk all Japanese aircraft carriers before we attacked Tokyo. It was a dangerous job, but somebody had to do it.
My parents were perfectly fine with the bomber that Fi and I built on our back porch. But a day or so later, Fi and I started to have a little problem with the airplane wanting to tip to one side. So I got my dads hammer and some good-sized nails, and we nailed that thing to the porch floor. My mother noticed that the next day, and I saw her talking with my dad. In a heartbeat the plane disappeared, and my father was pulling the nails out of the porch floor. Think of it … in only a few minutes my dad was able to destroy what both the German and Japanese armed forces couldn’t touch in almost a week.
If I had to pick one thing about my friend Fi McAllister which was the most memorable, it would not be his knowledge of the Civil War, nor would it be the many hours we spent playing together. Instead it would be a particular physical talent which he possessed. In fact, he was the only person I ever met in my life who had this talent. And I bet you have never seen anyone who had it.
You see, Fi was able to fold up his ears and stick them inside his head, and they would stay there. He could do it with both ears. Then he would look at you and smile. When he did that, he looked perfectly normal, but he had no ears. Instead, there were just little nubs sticking out on each side of his head.
But it didn’t stop there. He then had the ability, by utilizing his facial muscles, to make his ears pop back out. In fact, he could do it one ear at a time! It was amazing.
Sometimes he would come over to play before we had finished eating dinner. When that happened, he would stand around and talk with us as we were finishing our meal. And while this was going on, Fi would entertain us. He would fold up both ears and stick them inside.
I might then say, “Pop the left ear, Fi.” You could see him tightening some of his facial muscles, and out popped the left ear. It brought roars from everyone at the dinner table. It was the perfect kind of entertainment to top off a good meal.
Sometime after World War II ended, Fi and his family left Marysville. I believe they moved to California. The last I heard about him, I think he was a history professor at a California university. I bet he was their top guy for U. S. Civil War history. I also would bet that he was their only professor who could stick in his ears and pop them out on command.
Fi was a good friend. Today he is one of my favorite memories of growing up in Marysville a long time ago.