A powder horn and poof go your eyebrows.

Pop was the second to the youngest of 10 or 12 children. He grew up in small Indiana town.  His sister, Nellie, was several years older, married to a farmer named Wilber and they lived several miles from town. Pop would stay with Nellie and Wilber for days at a time during the summer months.

One visit to Nellie and Wilber’s farm found Pop playing in one of the equipment barns. As he explored every inch of the timber framed structure he happened across a powder horn. Yes, a genuine bullhorn, with strap, containing black powder. Pop quickly placed the powder over his shoulder and resumed his explorations but not a Bob Wilson, know he was Daniel Boone. Lacking the necessary equipment to complete his ensemble as a real life pioneer, explorer, and soldier, he quickly found another way to use the explosive contents of his find.

Pop knew what gunpowder was for and what it did but that didn’t stop him from just making sure it was true. He stealthily crept through the kitchen nabbing a large box of strike anywhere wooden matches while Nellie’s back was turned. He made sure not to shake the box matches for fear he would tip his sister off to his presence and the possible mischief he was planning. Matches, gunpowder, and a twelve-year-old boy, each taken individually are not bad things. Combine the three and you have hours of fun or impending disaster.

With the powder horn draped over his shoulder and matches rattling in his pocket with each step, Pop headed off behind the barn to experiment with the black powder. “Okay, I’ll pour just a little out on the ground and light it” Pop thought to himself. He poured out a little pile of powder, about the size of a dime, and threw a match on it. Poof, the powder burns and a small amount of smoke climbs into the air a few feet and quickly dissipates. He try’s this several more times before ending his day of exploration around the farm. After dinner he heads up to bed, anxious for the morning when he will be heading back to town and where he can show his new treasure to all his pals.

Back at home; Pop begins his day by showing his younger brother, Mickey, the magic of gunpowder. They begin making the rounds through neighborhood. Stopping at each friend’s house and showing them what a little pile of gunpowder and match will do. As he moves from house to house each friend continues on to the next. Eventually he amasses a group of boys a dozen strong.  The boys decide to break for lunch and meet later that afternoon to resume their crusade to spread the gospel of gunpowder and demonstrate its awesome power.

Side note to the story: I was once a boy, I have raised two boys and I know boys can only do something so many time before they have to increase the level of danger. Example: Ramping your bike off a one-foot high piece of plywood is only fun for a short time. You’ll begin to feel the urge and then you’ll increase the height of the ramp. This cycle repeats itself until finally someone gets hurt and hopefully it isn’t you. Well, this was the case with Pop and his buddies on that fateful day.

Pop and his friends meet at the predetermined time ready to continue their mission: spread the good news about gunpowder. The first stop they make is a real success because he mistakenly pours out a quarter sized pile of powder instead of the normal dime sized. The powder goes off with more flash followed by darker smoke causing the boys to ooh and ah. Feeling cocky about the show he just put on they head off to the next house ready for another evangelistic message.

The day is coming to an end and Pop wanted this last stop to be a great show.  They boys all gather around the back porch of the last convert’s house as Pop pours out a half dollar sized pile of powder. POOF, a big flash and the blackest smoke produced of any of the demonstrations today. OOOH, AHHH, and Pop is a real hero. But as all boys do… he couldn’t stop there. “Just one more boys” he says as he pours out another half dollar sized pile. POOF…ohh, ahh.

One of Pop’s buddies says: “Hey Bob, do it one more time but pour out a great big pile!” It wasn’t a dare. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a reckless encouragement to a boy, and later as a man, who needed little encouragement to do anything that bordered on reckless. Pop thinks to himself: dime size pile equals small flash and a little puff of smoke, half dollar size pile equals bigger flash and blacker puff of smoke, huge pile equals huge flash and huge puff of black smoke.

Here is where things went wildly wrong. Pop empties the powder horn on the back porch while every boy watches with anticipation. He opens the box of matches to find he is down to the last one. When he sees the almost empty box he says: “Gather around boys, I only have one more match and I don’t want the wind to blow it out!” Everyone gathers in close, making sure they shelter Pop from the wind. Pop strikes the match and throws it on the powder.

Keep this in mind: A little pile of black powder basically fizzles and smokes. A big pile will flash brightly, producing a high amount of heat while simultaneously producing a small, but thick, mushroom shaped cloud of dark smoke. This was taking place on a small covered porch and 65 years ago when the average house would not have had air conditioning. The porch had screen door that led directly into the kitchen where the mom was preparing dinner for the boy’s family and expected guest that would be joining them.

All right, back to the story. POOOOOF! The powder flashes and burns with extreme heat. All hell has just broken loose! One by one the boys start dropping off the porch while screaming that they can’t see. As the powder burns out the boys are now rubbing their eyes and will slowly  regain their sight. The smoke from the powder is rolling off the porch sealing and flowing directly into the kitchen, where mom is preparing diner. The mom starts yelling, “The house in on fire, the house is on fire!” The boy’s father runs into the kitchen to find that there is no fire, just smoke. Hearing a few of the boy’s on the back porch whimpering, HH

while tending to their minor burns, he heads out the door to ask, “What the hell just happened?”

Here’s the scene: Pop’s hat had a plastic bill on it that melted from the heat. It had looked like an Admirals cap but was distorted and discolored now. Pop still had most of his hair but lost his eyebrows, most of the boys weren’t that lucky.  All the boys had back on and around their faces except where they had been rubbing their eyes. Pop recalled they all looked as if they had been in a minstrel show. A couple of the boys were crying and had minor burns that needed some attention but caused no permanent scaring.

More of this story at another time.