I will be the first to admit, being a child has its challenges. It took me becoming an adult to finally realize, although fun and adventurous, being a kid isn't easy. Sure, we had our educational obligations, household chores and sleep, but those were the easy aspects of being a kid. As I reflect on my youth, I remember the challenges I faced during the countless hours when I was not busy perfecting the art of study, or surprising mom by voluntarily dusting the dining room hutch, or simply getting some shut eye. It was the downtime that caused me the greatest stress.
Perhaps it was my youthful innocence that made me think it was socially acceptable to dress up as an NFL football referee; complete with stirrups, yellow flag and black whistle, and officiate fake football games in my backyard. Looking back, I can only imagine the fact that my neighbors were surely gathered around the window, carefully peeking through the curtains, snickering as they watched me alone in the backyard call a face mask penalty complete with the appropriate hand gestures. I can't help but feel sorry for old man Jilgendorf who was trying to take his Sunday afternoon nap to the constant tooting of my whistle signaling the end of a play that never occurred. Sadly, I think about what my poor mother was thinking watching her youngest son place the football on a line of scrimmage that didn't exist. What could she have possibly been feeling; joy that her son was expressing his creativity, or sorrow that her little twelve year old boy was a freak? Although she would never admit it, I have a feeling I know the answer.
Looking back it amuses me. Although I chuckle about it, I am proud. I am proud that I was able to use my imagination and do things that made me happy and kept me out of trouble.
Driving home yesterday, I saw what appeared to be a 12 or 13 year old boy sitting on the curb, alone, blowing bubbles. I felt sorry for the kid, how boring. That's all his youthful mind could come up with, bubbles.
It brought a tear to my eye, I felt sorry for the kid. I had to stop. I asked him if he'd like to come to my house and dress up as a referee, he screamed for his mom and she called the police.
It brought a tear to my eye, I felt sorry for the kid. I had to stop. I asked him if he'd like to come to my house and dress up as a referee, he screamed for his mom and she called the police.
Times have changed.
My idea of a grand afternoon was digging a hole about 1 foot deep, lining it with a trash bag & grabbing my rope, bucket & water hose. After all that, I had a well.
ReplyDelete