Tag: my childhood

‘Baseball Without the Little League’ (2018)

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Image result for images of pickup baseball game

I grew up in a time when most kids played what they wanted to play and didn’t require full-time adult supervision–to say nothing of scoreboards, uniforms, sponsors, etc., etc.

Baseball Without the Little League

I think one of the wisest things my parents ever did was not to let me join the Little League. They said I’d hate it: the coach’s favorites play while everybody else just sits on the bench.

So much nicer to play with patchwork rules (hit the ball past the swing set, it’s a home run) and only four or five kids on a team. You get up to bat 50 or 100 times instead of not at all, you play as many innings as you please, and you don’t have to waste time undermining your teammates.

But then who sees free-range kids playing outside anymore?

Memory Lane: A Teacher

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Page 3 - Eccentric Teacher High Resolution Stock Photography and Images - Alamy

I have a lot of harsh things to say about the public schools, things that need saying. But I also want to say that at least the teachers, once upon a time, were not a bunch of Far Left crazies. Some of them, if fact, were pretty cool.

Lately I’ve been remembering one of my high school English teachers, Miss H. She taught my mother’s generation and then mine. English Lit. When I think of all those years of herding balky teenagers through the desert of boredom that was Silas Marner, and across the ocean of tedium that was The Forsyte Saga–how ever did she stand it, year after year?

After all her decades in the harness, Miss H. was still an enthusiast! Really–she loved her work. Thousands of book reports she read, over the years. Thousands! And did she take the time to write comments in the margins? Of course she did–which was proof that she’d really read the freakin’ things.

I don’t know if there are any more like her today. But yes, Miss H., wherever you are–I can still recite those lines from Chaucer’s Prologue that you made us memorize. “Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote/ the drought of March hath perced to the roote…”

When Your Wheel Falls Off

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Learn everything you can, King Ozias was counseled as a boy: you never know what you might need later on.

Once upon a time in my early teens, I was zooming down the hill on my bike, past Tommy’s pond… when the freakin’ wheel fell off! I was pitched off the bike, over the handlebars, and onto the street. And I didn’t get hurt!

Why wasn’t I hurt? Because I was studying judo at the time and I’d learned how to take a fall–in this case, a forward roll. It’s the hardest fall to learn, but boy howdy, did it ever save my bacon when that wheel came off.

Not that I wanted to make a habit of it.

The Ballpoint Pen That Can Be Used For Everything

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You have no idea how badly I wanted to try this, when I saw it on TV circa 1962. Shooting a Bic pen out of a rifle! Bam! Or a crossbow. Or you could use it to drill through a wooden plank, or even attach it to a figure-skater’s skates! And it would still “write first time, every time.” Even if the rest of the pen was totally destroyed.

True, some of us actually used ballpoint pens only for writing. You didn’t always have a crossbow handy. Uncle Ferdie had a rifle, but wouldn’t let us use it to shoot Bic pens at boards. (How could the man be so selfish?)

I wonder if there is anybody in the Defense Dept. working on top-secret military uses for ballpoint pens. That “dyamite” ball is “the hardest metal made.” Should be good for scaring off the Russians.

Memory Lane: The Piano Movers

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Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy moving the piano across the rope bridge in Swiss Miss | Laurel and hardy, Piano, Swiss miss

When my folks acquired Aunt Florence’s piano, my father hired me and two of my friends to help him collect it. We were high school kids! We could do anything! Gary was on the wrestling team, Ronnie was in vo-tech learning to be a plumber, and I was in judo–I played many matches against grown men and did just fine. But there’s a big, big difference between a successful foot sweep and moving a piano.

It was like it was nailed to the floor. We couldn’t budge it, couldn’t left it an inch. Then Uncle Jimmy came home, and he and my father picked up the piano like it was an empty cardboard box, carried it out of the house, and loaded it into the U-Haul in a matter of minutes.

What a humbling experience that was! These men weren’t Olympic weight lifters. Just two ordinary, healthy, grown-up men. Either one of them was stronger than the three of us. Oh, the embarrassment. As you can see, I’ve never forgotten it.

I think we learned a lesson.

A Valiant Little Fish

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When I was ten years old I did most of my fishing in Tommy’s Pond, and most of the fish I caught were these little pumpkinseeds.

But don’t sell them short just because they’re small. After the female lays the eggs, the male guards them. Come close to those eggs and he will go for you, never mind that you’re a hundred times his size.

These are very colorful little fish. I tried to keep small pumpkinseeds in the aquarium with my goldfish, but they picked on the goldfish (who didn’t deserve it) and kept jumping out of the tank. They couldn’t jump back in.

Memory Lane: Devoe Paints

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Large Devoe Paint 2 Sided Porcelain Sign

This memory goes way back, back to when my father converted our attic into upstairs bedrooms. I must’ve been, oh, three years old.

He painted the rooms a bright flamingo reddish-pink; and he used Devoe paints.

When I first read of the Devonian Period, just maybe three or four years later (I got fascinated by prehistoric life very early), it amazed me to think they’d named it after my daddy’s favorite Devoe Paints. He used them all the time. My brother and I had Devoe painters’ hats. Actually they named it after Devon, in England; but I only learned that much later.

The hand-made wooden box that contains my collection of toy animals and dinosaurs was painted with the same gorgeous flamingo color that made our bedroom look so nice (my sister’s room was light blue; so, eventually, was ours).

I’m happy to say they still make Devoe paints. In case I ever need to repaint my animal box.

Memory Lane: ‘The Addams Family’

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Addams Family Photo: Addams Family | Addams family tv show, Family tv, Old tv shows

This show was a big hit when I was a kid in middle school: The Addams Family, based on Charles Addams’ weird cartoons.

The gags come hot and heavy, but always from the same root: what’s normal for the Addams family is bizarre to us; and what’s normal to us seems bizarre to them. The writers and the cast made it work.

But I’ll tell you what really made it work; and it’s not what you might think.

They loved each other.

Every member of the family, even the servants, received affection and respect from all the others. Leave It to Beaver gets mocked for idealizing family life. The Addams family had the Cleaver family beat by miles, but never got mocked because they were all so out to lunch. The critics didn’t understand what made the show tick.

The other night I watched an Addams Family episode on YouTube. I enjoyed it every bit as much as I did in seventh grade. Sure, the jokes are easily predictable. That’s what made them so funny! But even more than that, the family feeling shines over the whole thing like the sun.

TV and movies seldom achieve so much.

The Ol’ DDT Truck

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DDT Is Good For Me-e-e!” - Sociological Images

Eldermike made a comment that awakened in me a long-repressed childhood memory.

We lived on a dead-end street that was once a dirt road, then a gravel road, with a school and playground right next door. And a nice big woods, too.

And every now and then the truck would come by to spray the whole neighborhood with DDT. It was supposed to kill off the mosquitoes. And a lot of us kids ran behind the truck, basking in the cloud of pesticide.

Today this seems an exceedingly bizarre scenario. But back then, who knew? DDT was a good thing. Even if it didn’t work. We had the DDT, we had screens on all the doors and windows–and the mosquitoes still got into your bedroom every night.

In all likelihood this DDT exposure was bad for us. But I’m not aware of any ill effects on my health. If so… well, sometimes God protects us from the fruits of our follies.

Memory Lane: Jesus’ Back Yard

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35 Modern Small Garden Ideas for Backyard Design - homeridian.com | Small backyard gardens, Simple garden designs, Small backyard landscaping

I grew up in a neighborhood where children freely wandered into neighbors’ yards, and even played games there. Nobody seemed to mind–except for my friend’s mother, next door. She took about 25 years to warm up to me.

One day, no one else around to play with, I went into my friend’s back yard to play in their sandbox. His mother came out and told me to get lost. “Don’t you understand that this is my yard, not yours?”

I think I was only four years old at the time. And my answer was, “It’s Jesus’ yard!”

What made me say that? I don’t know. All I do know is that Jesus Christ was as real to me as this neighbor. His picture hung in my house, as it did in the homes of all my family members. We sang “Jesus Loves Me” in Sunday nursery school. We said our prayers at night. And special prayers for special needs, like when you were scared of something.

I wasn’t propounding a theological argument. Of course it was Jesus’ yard. They were all Jesus’ yards. I was merely stating a fact. I wish I could remember how Mrs. G reacted to it. I don’t think she yelled at me.

Sometimes children are wiser than they ever know.