When I was a kid, I got to play. I played outside all day. I wandered about the neighborhood from sun up to sun down stopping just long enough to eat (when I remembered to) or run in and ask for change for the ice cream man. We climbed trees, played hide and seek in old abandoned barns, collected bits of colored wire to make rings and bracelets from the new housing addition going in. We explored the woods, drainage ditches, empty houses, our friends attics. We put laundry detergent on the carport and then hosed it down so we could “ice skate”, we talked to strangers, rode sleds with no brakes down the middle of the street. We didn’t own bike helmets, knee pads or wrist guards. In the summer, we would swing from ropes tied to trees right into the lake.
I remember one expedition where we went down into the drainage line that ran between the four lane highway. My sister caught a snake and we all got blisters all over the bottoms of our bare feet. It felt like we were walking on pillows. We played “kick the can“, collected rocks, drew on the sidewalk with charcoal briquets. Our parents didn’t come looking for us and we were always in the front door as the street lights came on. In the summer, we’d be back out in the front yard with the neighbor kids playing “freeze tag” by porch light. We played in the rain and washed our hair on the porch with the water rushing out of the gutters on the corners of the house.
Sometimes, we’d fall out of a tree or skin our knees. Mom would wash it off, put a band-aid on, and tell us to go back outside. We made mud pies, picked blackberries growing wild along the road and ate them without washing them. One winter, I chipped a tooth going down the hill of our street. I was laying on my stomach on my sled and hit a rough spot on the sidewalk. I was so proud! Knocked the corner, pointy part right off my eye tooth. It was a right of passage and I thought it made me look older and more mature.
One winter, the week of Christmas I woke up with what looked like giant mosquito bites all over. From head to toe I was covered in large welts. My face was so covered, there was no part that wasn’t swollen. A friend suggested a bath of bleach water because I had obviously gotten into poison oak or ivy. Apparently, Mom thought this was a viable option because she tried it. I got into the tub and began to scream loud enough to wake the dead and I turned lobster red. This time, Mom did take me to the doctor because I looked like a very large, red Michelin man. Turns out, I’m allergic to poison Ivy. It found me when I found an old abandoned tree house and decided to proclaim it as the neighborhood’s official club house. Doc gave us a prescription for a cream, strongly suggested that my mother not listen to “Dr. Neighbor” next time and sent me home.
We didn’t know if we were supposed to rub the cream in until it disappeared so Mom decided not to. The redness was gone but I looked like the Michelin man getting a facial on Christmas day. I got new skates for Christmas but I was so embarrassed about the white cream all over my face I cried, putting tear streaks through the white goo on my face and refused to go out and try them until it was washed off. My desire to try the new skates won out, and a gooey, tear streaked, swollen, itchy me went outside with my new skates anyway. I only fell once and the wind on my face cooled my burning, itching skin.
Some how I survived my childhood. All that playing seemed innocent enough but childhood is a magnificent teacher. I learned to use my imagination. I learned to play nice. I learned that wounds heal, laughter cures, and sometimes, abandoned dreams are better left alone. I learned that the sun always rises tomorrow which is the beginning of yet another new adventure if I am brave enough to face it. Yes. I survived my childhood. My wonderful, joyful, mysterious, trouble free, magical childhood.
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