Before He Ran for Sheriff

You want the dirt on AJ Benefield, well here it is. I have known him since he was born and I have just a few stories I think you will enjoy.
First, I recognize there are two sides to every story, but I feel no obligation to tell both sides. This is a big brother's view of growing up with AJ (BUB for most of those years) Benefield. I am reliving a number of these stories because I have two sons who are just like us. Jay Allen has my personality and James has AJ's. I am never far from my childhood adventures because of that.
Going back to the early days, AJ and I got along really well, especially when he did what I told him. We didn't ever fight in anger that I remember, but we still managed to incur several scars and broken bones from our upbringing.
Growing up, our parents carried AJ and me to the creek every now and then. We both enjoyed going, but I enjoyed swimming around in the water and AJ enjoyed throwing rocks into the water. This seems like a good mix since AJ was a little younger and probably shouldn't be in the water by himself, but AJ failed to refrain from throwing rocks in the water while I was in there. To this day, I remember raising up and seeing AJ in the final stance of a throwing motion and wondering where the rock went when, "WHAPP!" The next thing I saw was my ten toes gaining altitude as my head rocketed backwards just a little slower than the stone that had hit it. That was the first time I remember being knocked out, though it was only for a second because the ice cold creek water instantly revived me. I raised up staggered and put my hand to my head and found that my forehead and nose were bleeding like a horror show slasher had carved his initials on me. I know AJ is not proud of almost killing me, but it was a good throw. I still have the scars from that rock on the bridge of my nose and the top of my forehead. They are listed as distinctive scars in my medical records, even. And that nonsense about me holding him under water before this happened is just a cover - don't believe it.
Though I honestly don't remember holding AJ underwater as mentioned above, I do admit to chunking a sharpened piece of bamboo across the yard and accidently pinning him to the ground by his elbow. You can judge for yourself if that accidental spearing or some other small trauma from childhood motivated AJ to seek payback on his older brother.
One of the most short lived periods of our childhood was the time we owned a go-cart. When AJ and I were nine and thirteen, my dad bought us a go-cart. We unloaded it from the truck and cranked it up and decided AJ would ride it first by himself. It did have two seats, but since it was technically his, this seemed fair and appropriate. He started out OK, but kept gaining speed and making tight left hand turns in the yard when we lived beside Pine Grove Church. On the third lap, he was yelling, "I CAN'T STOOOOOOOOOP!" with full Doppler effect. The accelerator spring came off while we were unloading the go-cart and he was stuck on this Winston Cup wannabe going wide open in slick grass that kept the brake from working. My dad and I ran behind the go-cart like two dogs chasing a car and kept trying to disconnect the spark plug to stop him. This go-cart was too fast to catch on the straight of way, so we had to run into the turns and lunge at the spark plug wire. I can't remember which of us got him stopped, but I remember the spark plug shocked me so badly that I said some words that I didn't know the meaning of until I joined the Army. AJ says I tampered with the accelerator on purpose, but I have my suspicions that there was really nothing wrong with it - he just wanted to see how fast my dad and I could run.
Despite the rough start, AJ and I loved that go-cart. We got that thing tuned up and waited beside the church for Mr. Weathers to come home from work in his pick-up. Mr. Weathers never drove very fast, so we thought we should race him. We jumped into the (wrong side of the) road and raced him to the corner where the Ledbetters live. We were doing great until our dad came around the corner and saw us tearing down wrong side of the road together in that thing. That was AJ's first high speed chase and our last ride on that go-cart. In true Benefield fashion, we painted it and gave it to one of our cousins as if it were new (hope that doesn't crush you, Darryl).
I've already shared my first broken nose experience with you, but the second was much simpler. AJ was trying to make me blink by acting like he was going to hit me. I was not blinking and actually stepped toward him to call his bluff. Unfortunately, when I stepped forward, he didn't adjust his range and landed a solid jab right on the end of my nose. To his horror, I did not blink when he landed this punch, either. I stared at him with the look of, "Is there any doubt you are about to get a whuppin'?" I remember the wide eyed look on AJ's face and then the super human yell that he let loose next, saying, "MOMMMMMMMAAAAA!" Our momma dutifully rushed in to save the baby of the family and my eyes did eventually start to water as again, AJ had broken my nose. This time resulted in the hump that is now visible right in the middle of my nose.
I have to admit that AJ did suffer some broken bones growing up, too. Neither one of us are going to come out looking like a rose from this next story, but we are grown Christian men now who look back on that part of our lives as the time we were, "building our testimony." AJ made some comments about my intentions toward a particular young lady that I found to be inappropriate and inaccurate(the comments were actually pretty innocent remarks about kissing if I remember correctly). I would share her name with you for accuracy's sake, but I am pretty sure she is one of my Facebook friends and is happily married, now. Sorry that my description doesn't exclude more of you, but that is sort of the idea. After the offensive remarks, I charged AJ and threw him to the ground. He got up, retracted his comments, and appeared to be fine. Two days later, his arm was purple and swollen. I finally agreed to let him go tell our parents that his arm was hurting, but not before we cooked up a cover story as to how it happened. Our cover story really wasn't that good and my parents really didn't buy it, but I got off fairly light. Not as light as AJ did for my two broken noses (NO PUNISHMENT), but light enough that I don't remember the punishment.
This last story intersects with my adult life and is classic AJ. Many of you have seen reference to it, but don't know the full context. While I was in college, Cammie and I were at my parents' house and having probably the worst fight in the history of our relationship (which was pretty minor by fight standards). Cammie was as mad with me as she had ever been, but not so mad that she didn't try to act civil when AJ walked in. He had no idea we had been fighting and cruised into the kitchen exchanging quick greetings with us. He yelled from the kitchen to ask if we would like some Eggnog. He got a curt, "NO," from me, but Cammie said she would like a glass. He brought her a glass, but it wasn't Eggnog, it was buttermilk. Cammie turned up that buttermilk and wrinkled her face up and then SHE said some words I didn't know the meaning of until I joined the Army. She mumbled more words I can't post, started crying, and walked out and slammed the door. No kidding, AJ looked at and said, "GOLLLEEE! I didn't know she'd get that mad." I should have let him think that was all on him, but I confessed to the fight and let him off the hook.
Those are just a few of the highlights fit to be printed from our youth. We only had three channels on television, but with AJ as my brother, the best entertainment was never on television anyway.