Reflections on my 46th Birthday

Yesterday was my 46th birthday. Birthdays being a good time for looking back over one's life to date, I find that L.P. Hartly was correct when he said "The past is another country, they do things differently there." (As an aside, this quote is often mis-assigned to Jeff Cooper, who titled one of his books "Another Country".)

When I was a kid I had a whole arsenal of toy guns. I had cowboy-type six-shooters, shotguns, a Tommy gun, an M1 rifle, even an M16. Most of them were made in fairly realistic colors, and most of them looked fairly realistic. I don't recall ANY of them having a little red or orange thingy on the muzzle. A cop passing by my yard while my friends and I were playing cowboy, soldier, cops and robbers, etc wouldn't have been alarmed at a bunch a kids running around with guns and apparently shooting one another, that was just what boys did. Thru this type of play we learned that there are good and bad people (note that few kids WANTED to be the Nazi/Robber/Indian) and that if you were a bad person then the good people would hunt you down, that was just what they DID.

From first grade thru third grade we recited the Pledge of Allegience and sang "America" first thing every morning. From fourth thru sixth grades "America" was replaced by "The Star Spangled Banner", a rite of passage that meant you were now among the "big kids". In elementary school (first thru sixth grades) boys had to wear ties and girls had to wear skirts or dresses to school, you couldn't wear jeans (we called them dungarees). In winter the girls could wear pants under their skirts and had to remove the pants when they got to school. On Monday we had Assembly where boys had to wear white shirts and girls white blouses. The class that had the best record of 100% white shirts, blouses and ties got pizza at the end of the year.

When I was about ten my parents gave me a pocketknife for my birthday. It was a "scout" knife, it had a main blade, a penknife blade, a can opener and a screwdriver/bottle opener. The blades were sharp. When (not if) I cut myself with it my mother put a band-aid on it and told me to be more careful next time. I still have a small scar on my left index finger from that knife or one of the others I've owned over the years.

When I was in fifth grade my parents got me a crew-cut. One kid thought that was funny and would squeeze my head every chance he got. I finally had enough of it, turned around, and punched him in the jaw. Later that day my teacher (Mr Santangelo) said "Mark, I heard you punched (whatever his name was)." At my affirmative (I didn't DARE lie to him) he shook my hand and said "Good job". I didn't get suspended, I didn't get detention, the police weren't called, nor was my mother (although she heard about it and approved as well).

I had a Royce Union bicycle, one speed, with a banana seat and sissy-bar. When I first got it it had training wheels, once I learned to ride it (and that took a while since it really was too big for me when I got it) the training wheels came off. I rode it in the driveway and on the front sidewalk at first, as I got older I ranged farther afield on it. I'd sometimes come home scraped up from a fall, and once I fell on my butt trying to pop a wheelie and my wheelie height was more important to me than getting my feet down in time to catch myself. Of course I never wore a helmet. When I got a bit older my brother gave me his Schwinn Varsity ten speed, a fall from which provided me with my only broken bones (both bones in my right arm, just above the wrist) at age 14.

I'd play outside all day, come in dirty (unless I was playing with my Tonka trucks, in which case I'd come in filthy). I had Army-men, G.I. Joes, Tonka trucks, race cars and the aforementioned toy guns.

Each afternoon I'd watch Mr Rogers' Neighborhood. I didn't care much for Sesame Street or Electric Company (besides, I already KNEW my ABCs and how to count, although the guy in the chef's hat falling down the stairs was funny), but I liked Mr Roger's puppet world.

On rainy days my parents and I would play games, Monopoly, Parcheesi, Life. They also taught me to play cards, mostly Rummy 500 and Pinocle. If Mom and Dad were busy I'd play Solitare, with cards, not on a computer. I was probably a teenager when my older brother gave me a Pong game, the first home video game I ever saw.

The only car I remember my Dad owning was a 1968 AMC Rebel station wagon. I remember him working on it in the driveway one time, he couldn't reach whatever he was after at the back of the inline-six-cylinder engine so he stepped over the fender and stood between the fender and engine to get at it. Of course it had no air-conditioning, power windows or power locks. It had seat belts (the kind that went over your lap), but he decided they were in the way so he stuck them under the seat. After my Dad couldn't drive anymore after being disabled at work he gave the Rebel to my brother, who drove it until it was wrecked while parked in front of his house. I later learned that he'd planned to give it to ME on my 18th birthday.

Yes, some things are better now. I'd never consider putting my car into gear unless I and all passengers had their seat-belts fastened (right Sweetie?). I wear a helmet when I ride a bike. I like having more than seven TV channels to choose from.

Still, some things aren't improvements. How many seven-year-olds know the words to the Pledge of Allegience? How many ten-year-olds learn to be careful with knives the hard way, but cutting themselves? How many learn that it's better to be a good person than a bad one because good people will go after bad ones? How many kids today can make their own fun if the TV dies?

The past really is another country, and they really do do things differently there.