I'm glad I wasn't my parent

If I had been my parent when I was a kid, I would have had a very miserable childhood. Whenever I stop to think of the things I did when I was at the age my children are now, I realize what a sheltered and adventureless life they live. Actually, we do have a lot of adventure in our lives, but it pales compared to my childhood. The things my parents let me do (and the things I got away with) would make me a nervous wreck if my kids did them today. How my parents survived my childhood without having a heart attack or killing me, I’ll never know. Today I get after my boys for shooting their Nerf guns in the house for fear they’ll break something or shoot an eye out. We didn’t have Nerf guns back in the Disco Era. I did have a BB gun, and I used to go outside and shoot nearly everything that didn’t move – and a few that did. The same went for my experience in my teens as a hunter with my single-shot shotgun. The safest place for game birds was within my sights. My children have never been hunting and have only a mild interest in fishing. My hunting career lasted only three years or so and ended when the ringing in my ears began (and to this day has not stopped). I used to be an avid fisherman as a boy. I’d often walk or ride my bike over to the Frog Pond, which has a small creek running by it. I caught a lot of suckers, but not much else. Occasionally my exploits with a fishing pole would net me a small trout, carp or some sunfish. Come to think of it, not much has changed in that regard in the last 30-some years. (Sigh) One adventure we do share is a love of camping. Even that has changed. As a Boy Scout, we cooked our food over a fire and slept in pup tents that you could barely sit up in. My boys cook over propane stoves, sleep in tents the size of condos and have all kinds of electronic gadgets for entertainment. Growing up in the booming metropolis of Niwot, Colo., located just northeast of the People’s Republic of Boulder, my brothers, buddies and I had free rein to go just about anywhere we pleased. We rode our bikes all over town, over jumps, off road or anywhere else we could. Outdoor games like hide-and-go-seek could be confined to a yard or the entire neighborhood. We always knew when it was about time to go home when the lady next door would do her nightly summon of her son. His name is Mike, but we called him Mister because his initials were M.R. Each evening his mom would sing out “Miiiichaaaael … Miiiiiisteeer! Time to come home!” If we didn’t respond right away, it meant we were in someone’s house, down at the Frog Pond or over at the Fina (a little country store and gas station) and couldn’t hear. While my friends and I were everywhere, I get uneasy having my boys play with the neighbor across the street. Our house is on a busy corner in Rosenberg and I don’t feel it’s safe for my kids to ride their bikes in the area. In addition to a lot of traffic, we share a corner with a restaurant, bar, gas station and a Laundromat. Some of the characters we see on a regular basis make you wonder if there was a big sale at the thrift store and if all the dentists had been run out of town. There must also be a lot of deaf people in our community because of all the cars that go by with the music up so loud you would swear we were having an earthquake. I got my driver’s permit the day I turned 15½ and my license on my 16th birthday. My oldest two have no interest in driving. I had summer jobs away from home and went to college on the other side of the state. Not so with my youngsters. Living on a hobby farm in a rural community and being hyper-active in Boy Scouts gave me experiences that my children may never have. I used chainsaws, wood splitters, pocket knives, electric saws, sanders and drills; butchered rabbits and chickens; went rock climbing, canoeing, climbed mountains, drove cross-country, jumped from 30-foot cliffs into the water, jumped on our trampoline (without those safety nets), slept in igloos, and played a lot of sports. I plea the Fifth on such things as drinking, chewing tobacco, sneaking into concerts, playing with illegal fireworks, watching movies with ratings above my age, and reading certain types of magazines for men (and I use the word “reading” very loosely here). I never did smoke or try any drugs. After all, a fellow had to draw the line somewhere. I lived a very busy, active and adventurous life. My boys can build with Legos and play video games. They are active in Scouts, but even then it’s not like they’re out in the woods thinning out beetle-kill stands of pine or climbing Longs Peak on a hot, summer day. Maybe it’s time to change all of that and get my kids (and myself) outdoors more often and engaged in fun and challenging activities. That way they can experience more of life and I can learn more about the hell and countless hours in prayer that I put my parents through.