I grew up in a small town in Western Maryland during the sixties and seventies. My friends and I played "army" in the woods and had toy guns that were dead ringers for the real thing. We played hard and slept hard. We all had spider bikes and settled our differences with real logic and fists. We shot BB guns and played football in the field where tackling was more of a bloodsport and less of a means for stopping a play. We had wood burning kits and drank our water from a hose in the summer months. Our parents cars didn't come with seat belts and we somehow survived into adulthood.When we stepped out of line, our parents brought us back to reality with a firm hand, a leather belt or, in my case, one of those paddles that used to have a rubber band and ball attached to it. If I spoke out of line my father would hit me on top of the head and the fillings would drop out of my teeth. There were no "time outs" for me and my friends.
We got our hair cut by men named Buck and Big John. We ate what was on our plate for dinner or we didn't eat. We walked to school, up hill, both going to, and coming home from, school. There was no staying home from school, our parents made us go, dead or alive.
As I have been corresponding with my "Bro's" on my favorite social network, I have been thinking about how it was for us growing up. I thought about how Ricky Schade was our designated "go to" guy when our baseball would roll into the storm drain. We would lift off the manhole cover and hold him by his ankles and lower him into the drain to retrieve our ball. There was Donny Martin who would always lose when we would play "How close can you get to a moving car without being hit?" I don't think he understood that the object of the game was to NOT get hit by the car. Doug Dunn and I once played a game that involved throwing snowballs and seeing how close we could get to Old Man Saville's garage windows without breaking them. I lost.
I guess my point is this...I don't see boys playing like this anymore. Hell, I hardly see them playing outside at all anymore. They are too busy with their game systems or watching videos or curing their yeast infections or something. I sometimes think America's enemies have put secret doses of estrogen in the milk supply that has allowed for the pussification of the young American males. Where are the Charlie Lattimer's that would kick your ass if you direspected him and his authority or if you acted like a wimpy, sissy, baby? Today's authority figures would rather give a kid a time out and then get back to watching Ellen and sipping their Chai Latte.
As I continue on my Bro Tour, I am constantly reminded of how it was growing up Kirby. My friends and I didn't have a lot but we had each other. If you messed with one of my friends you messed with all of us. We were brothers...and once you're a Bro, you're always a Bro.
Be Well.
Bill
