Retrospect on a Childhood Well Lived

Klamath, California is where I grew up and it’s constantly being confused with Klamath Falls, Oregon. Dad work for the federal government, Mom for a local tourist attraction and with four kids, money was always tight.

We never had a fast-food place like McDonald’s, Burger King or Taco Bell. Fast food was a bologna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk or Kool-Aid, taken outside to the redwood picnic table Dad built.

Going to restaurant was a huge deal that only happened for very special occasions. We ate at the dinner table each evening after Dad said a little prayer. The television was never on during meals. And we ate what was made for dinner or we didn’t eat at all.

Mom made a lot of our clothes and every late summer, we would go shopping for school clothes in Eureka.

Our school clothes also came mail order from the Montgomery Wards, the Sears or the JCPenny catalog. We wore a lot of hand-me-downs. And sometimes we’d get to wear our favorite outfit or best shirt and pants to the county fair.

Teachers were trusted and respected. We went to school everyday. If you were sick and didn’t go to school, you didn’t get to play outside either. We learned our ABC’s, math, how to read and to write in cursive. You took your school clothes off as soon as you got home and put on your play clothes. And we had to do our homework and chores before being allowed outside to play.

Staying in the house was punishment and the only thing we knew about ‘bored,’ was “You better find something to do before I find it for you.” We spent most all of our time, especially our summers, outside. We played Mother May I, Hopscotch, Cops and Robbers, Combat, 1-2-3 Not It, Red light-Green Light, Red Rover, Hide and Seek, Truth or Dare, Tag, Baseball, Kick Ball, Dodge Ball, Barbies, GI Joe, house, football, baseball and rode our bikes, jumping off scrap-wood ramps, or roller skates and skate boards everywhere.

Our finger and thumb or an oddly angled stick served as a gun when playing Cowboy and Indians. A pine cone or dirt clod made the perfect hand grenade in a game of War. We trusted and respected the Law because they had the real guns and would protect us and our families in a time of trouble.

We played deep in the redwood forest, at the neighbors house, in our own backyards, down by the creek and river, and waded in the ditches and ponds. Kids from all over the neighborhood, even kids visiting cousins would come to our house and play. And it didn’t matter whose kid you were, you were always welcomed to stay for lunch and dinner.

We hardly paid attention to time while playing. Not many of us owned a wrist watch or a wallet. We were undaunted by the rain or wind. We knew it was time to go in when the street lamps came on. And we had set bed times, even on the weekend.

We had paper routes, mowed lawns and collected soda-pop bottles and aluminum cans for extra cash and before we could get real summer jobs. There was no bottled water and we drank from the warm water from the faucet and garden hose. And we watched cartoons on Saturday mornings because that’s the only time they came on.

Our only phone sat in the hallway, where there were no private conversations. We didn’t have cellphones or TV remotes and satellite dishes. Television was mostly black and white and came with three channels. And not only did we skin our elbows and knees in the dirt, gravel and rocks, some of us skinned our young hearts on our first puppy-love.

We watched our mouths around our elders, women and younger children. And we were mindful at all times that our Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents, Parents, the best friends of our parents and our best friend’s parents could and would spank us for misbehaving.

And if they were still living, I’d call my folks and say, “Thank you for everything.”