GOOD OLD DAYS

I don’t know what made me think of Vacation Bible School (VBS) days from my childhood. I suppose getting old just makes one nostalgic. Maybe I long for those good old days. Naw! I was too stupid. It may have had something to do with watching a community parade and seeing all those flat bed trailers and pickup trucks filled with kids waving and yelling.

Every year on the final day of VBS some one brought their big old farm truck to pack the entire group into the back for the ride to Elm Park. I’m sure these types of trucks are still around, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen one. I think there must be a law prohibiting farm trucks from the city limits. The truck was huge. Remember I was about 3’ tall so maybe it wasn’t as big as I now think. The sides were all slates, like ladders, and each section was removable. We piled in without proper seats, seat belts or other safety equipment. Some sat, most stood trying to get a space around the rim to hang on and still a few tested their balance by trying to stand in the middle with no security. It took a few years before I tried that. When someone slipped, everyone laughed.

I guess those were the years of living dangerously. Personally I considered them terrific years of great fun. But what did I know. Kids were stupid remember. Being stupid I remember missing other things from the stupid days. Our school playground had a swing that could reach as high as a second story school window with a little effort. We used to see who could jump out at the highest level – onto a graveled playground. There was nothing else on which to jump. Maybe the occasional kid was taken to emergency, but most parents, brushed you off, cleaned the wound, told you it was nothing and to stop crying. So we did it again.

I loved sleeping in the back window of a car for long trips. I could lie there and watch the world go by while dreaming of driving some day in the distant future.

I loved football. I was just average, but that didn’t stop me or prevent me from playing in a small community league. Everyone wanted equipment, but very few had any. Some teams had shoulder pads. The most desired piece of equipment. Some had helmets. Only individuals has other things such as cleats, a jersey that actually covered the shoulder pads, or a cup. You didn’t get those until high school. It still hurt pre-high school.

With all the protection our government if providing, no demanding, I am fortunate to have lived long enough to be protected. From everything I can figure, I am a pretty sure I should be dead. But, guess what, I’m not. On a daily basis I listen to people sitting around talking about the good old days. You know what scares them most? Today!

We worry about all the pills we take. We worry about all the doctor visits we are told we must make. We worry about being warehoused in a non-carrying place. We worry about being placed in survival mode with tubes and machines keeping things moving while we have no live left but that equipment.

It’s not life that causes fear or worry. It’s the possibility of life without life. When will our government protect us from that? When will our friends and family see death as the natural course of living? I do not advocate assisted suicide. I support death with dignity. Don’t keep me longer than God has planned.