Once upon a time we were asked to keep a journal, this perhaps isn't a "journal" but it is an account of all that I remember as I grew up. The story continues from last week:
It's difficult to describe what it was like to grow up on the steep hill; the community of children around my own age seemed pretty large, neighborhood kids running between one house and another, exploring new construction houses with a complete lack of regard for any possible dangers and… doing everything without any regard for safety.
Two specific 'safety' events flash into my limited memory though there were probably dozens more.
First: I remember the foundation for a house just kitty corner from our back yard had been freshly dug, the children gathered together and played around these amazing trenches that were better than any equipment you can find in a playground. We jumped over and played through these deeply dug chunk of earth… I remember a game of "Jump over the Trench" that ended when I found myself at the bottom while rocks spilled down on top of me, my hands covered my head, but nothing protected my knee… for the next several weeks the glowing purple bruise reminded me one very important lesson about playing in construction zones… don't fall down.
Second: I remember a skateboard, probably extremely small because I wouldn't have been extremely big, but skinny enough that I could turn it on a dime. I have no memory of trying to stand on that thing, but many memories of laying on it as I came bolting down the long, winding, sloped road.
It makes me stop and think… my poor kids, they never have any fun.SHARE