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Location: Grand Junction, Colorado, United States

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Is life really better?

I think it is time I sat down, lit my pipe, put my feet up on my cyber pot belly stove and muse a bit.

I've heard parent say that they want their kids to have it better than they did when they were growing up. They interpret this to mean more toys, bigger toys, more expensive toys. Yet, they laugh and way that when their kids get all those nice gifts all they want to do is play with the boxes they came in. Is there a message in that? Do they really want big expensive, elaborate toys? Do they really want to play with someone else's imagination or do they want to use their own?
When I was growing up I played cowboys and Indians, with real Indians. Sometimes the Indians won. Nobody was offended by the word "Indian" There were no ACLU weenies telling us we couldn't play cowboys and Indians. No lawyer told us it was supposed to be "cattlepersons and native americans.
We would make toy guns out of old wood and wood cloths pins (stolen from our mother's cloths pin bag hanging on the cloths line). They would shoot big rubber bands we would make by cutting up old inner tubes. We had boat loads of fun. We didn't have some Govt. Agency coming along and telling us it was too dangerous and to get rid of our guns or they would take them away. No psychologist ninny telling us that by playing with toy guns we were going to grow up into violent adults.
No. What we had was family. At the dinner (supper) table the family would all sit down (no TV trays) and share our day with each other. We could laugh at each others mis-steps, tease each other and sometimes receive sage advice (often hidden in a funny story) from loving and caring parents.
Growing up, we were all hunters. We all had guns. Real guns. We were taught how to use them by our fathers and grandfathers.
What we didn't have was a rash of school shootings. What we didn't have was constant drive by shootings.
Yeah, we had disagreements. A little pushing and shoving, maybe a bloody nose or two, then a hand shake and it was off to find more Indians to shoot with rubber bands. (for some reason I always hated being General Custer)

2 Comments:

Blogger Barb said...

Life was a lot simpler then, wasn't it? The horrendous things that happen all the time now were unheard of back then. It was even safe for kids to be outside playing in the neighborhood after dark.

Those days are gone. But babies would still rather have the box than it's contents to play with. I look at every box long and hard before I toss it out. xoxoxo

1:07 PM  
Blogger Grafted Branch said...

That was a great post, Rob! I really, really enjoyed reading it and hope you'll get back in the saddle and tell us more.

I often visit your wife's place, but today surfed on over from Sarah's...

12:01 PM  

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