|
Childhood Memories
Wow, the essay
that follows describes a large part of my childhood on Long
Island. As ordinary and carefree as can be. Now I see that is what made it
wonderful.
We'd wait, sitting on the curb for the ice cream man's jingle and little
truck, our silver dimes firmly ensconced between thumb and forefinger. I'd
have to choose: A cream sicle, ice cream sandwich or "drum stick" (a new
type of ice cream). Hmmmm....?
My friends and I would play baseball in an empty weedy lot or "stick ball"
in the street. Sometimes we'd play kick ball, when the kid that had one of
those cool rubber "playground balls" came out.
I rode my dark green heavy, all steel English bicycle everywhere. I
remember having to loop it back and forth in a switchback pattern in order
to climb the hill on our road. A point of pride was not having to get off
and walk the bike. Sometimes I'd ride with friends on their "Stingrays" to
another town! This at 11 years old. We'd sneak and swim in the reservoir.
Warm, clean water. It was heaven, and savored all the more sweetly for the
chance of getting caught, which we were.
There was my newspaper route. Up at 5 in the morning every day to deliver
papers before school. I lied about my age to get that job (you had to be 12
then) and was always on time with deliveries and always put the paper in the
customer's door. (Why ride and carry papers all those miles to simply throw
them the last 20 feet? - That's how I saw it.)
Some bitter cold mornings I couldn't use my bike and had to deliver papers
from a canvas sack mounted to my sled, which I would drag, trudging the
whole way. I made $7 a week and everyone tipped me at Christmas. One old man,
who was 100, paid me in silver half dollars for his subscription. I
kept my route book records, canvassed for new subscribers and got leads for
summer lawn mowing. At one point I'd gotten enough new subscribers to win a
real "pro model" baseball mitt. I was so proud, I'd never had such a fine
possession. No more bare handed sandlot ball for me! I still have that
mitt, chestnut brown with age, with an 11 year old's proud crooked printing:
"Tom Preble" on the leather thumb.
I could go on and on. The point is that it was a different post-WWII world
then. We were always outside playing, until Mom rang the bell for us.
Sometimes we'd pretend we couldn't hear that bell, so that we could play a
little longer in the fading light of evening and watch the "lightning bugs"
come out. There really were very few "fat kids" then, and even the fat kids
weren't fat by today's standard. Not a single kid was obese. The fat kids
simply weren't whip lean...
Not much reason to stay inside really. Our huge black and white TV only got 3
channels and took 5 minutes to warm up. To change the channel, one would turn a
big brown bakelite knob on the side, quite a handful - "chunk, chunk, chunk".
And heavens to Betsy, the TV was not treated like a light bulb! Anyone could
turn on a light when he needed it, but the TV required
permission from the parents, always. And cripes! - Sometimes the answer was
NO! I spent a lot of time reading 10 cent comic books and later, Dad's old
science fiction paperbacks. I'd sit in the quiet sanctuary of my library,
the bottom of the basement steps, until my rear got numb...
We built tree houses and underground forts, built and launched model rockets and
I actually grew a vegetable garden. When I was small, before the flush of
wealth from my paper route, I received a 50 cent weekly allowance. When not
saving up for something important, like a telescope or steam engine (which each
took 20 weeks of saving - and an understanding shop keeper with a good layaway
plan), why I'd spend that allowance as it came. I'd buy a weekly "Match Box
Car", small zinc automotive replicas, which were made in England then and cost
49 cents each. With the penny change I'd buy a gumball. Then one day the
government people instituted something called a "Sales Tax". This tax was
started at 2 % of the sale. Now my weekly Match Box Car was 50 cents, with
tax. The government took my gumball! I was mad. Explains a lot, doesn't it?
Christmas time was overwhelmingly wide-eyed special. Mom and Dad would put us
to bed. (Notice I said "bed" and not "sleep".) Then our parents would stay up
all night putting up the tree, which we didn't know they'd bought, and decorate
it with lights, ornaments, tinsel and angel hair. "Santa
brought the tree", they'd tell us. Dad would spray fake snow around his old
Army boots, making footprints from and to our brick fireplace. Santa's
prints, with magic snow from the North Pole that never melted! Ahh, yes,
waiting in bed for Christmas morning we'd hear, perhaps, an icicle break
loose outside and fall from our wooden gutters. Reindeer! Santa's here!
Hide under the covers, if he knows you're awake, he'll leave nothing!
I could go on and on and I am sure I will in future years, a privilege of
age. But not now. As you have likely gathered if you've read this far, I
am old, but not that old. Though I did actually walk to school through the
snow from time to time... ;^)
Have a wonderful relaxing holiday! Think about it and see if you can
recapture some of the wonder of this time that you felt when you were young.
Your friend,
Tom Preble
Now, the essay:
> >
> > People over 25 should be dead. To the survivors:
> >
> > According to today's regulators and bureaucrats, those of us who were
> > kids in the 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's probably shouldn't have survived.
> >
> > Our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paint. We
> > had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets, and when
> > we rode our bikes, we had no helmets. (Not to mention the risks we took
> > hitchhiking.)
> >
> > As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.
> > Riding in the back of a pickup truck on a warm day was always a
> > special treat. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a
bottle.
> > Horrors! We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle,
> > and no one actually died from this.
> >
> > We ate cupcakes, bread and butter, and drank soda pop with sugar in
> > it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside
> > playing...
> > We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we
> > were back when the street lights came on. No one was able to reach us
all
> > day. No cell phones. Unthinkable.
> >
> > We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then
> > rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running
> > into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
> >
> > We did not have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X-Boxes, no video games at
> > all, no 99 channels on cable, video tape movies, surround
> > sound, personal cell phones, personal computers, or Internet chat rooms.
> >
> > We had friends! We went outside and found them.
> > We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there
> > were no lawsuits from these accidents. We made up games with sticks and
> > tennis balls and ate worms, and although we were told it would
> > happen, we did not put out very many eyes, nor did the worms live inside
> us
> > forever.
> >
> > We rode bikes or walked to a friend's home and knocked on the door,
> > or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them. Little League had
> > tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn
> > to deal with disappointment.
> >
> > The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of.
> > They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! This generation has
> > produced some of the best risk-takers and problem solvers and
> > inventors, ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation
> and
> > new ideas.
> >
> > We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned
> > how to deal with it all. And you're one of them! Congratulations. Please
> > pass this on to others who have had the luck to grow up as kids,
> > before lawyers and government regulated our lives, for our own good.
> >
> > Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors?
|
