2 posts tagged “childhood”
So it's summer. Yeeha. And this one is busier than I've remembered a summer being in a very long time. I've got work, Jim has work...more yeeha. Kids are crazy active and I'm the designated camp counselor of late, which brings me to the following reflection that I tend to have every, oh, six months or so, that I am a dinosaur. You know, from the prehistoric ages, back when kids rode their bikes far far from home, alone, in the dark in the '70s. My folks would leave for work in the summer, when I was my son's age, ten (they worked in town then) and my mom would kiss me on the head, open the door, and say 'I'll see you at dinnertime...don't be late."
That was at 9am in the morning. I had a key on a string around my neck and knew where the hidden one was, although I don't think my folks actually locked the back door. And I'd tool around with Barbara or Nancy ('cause Nancy's mom didn't work and would make ham sandwiches for lunch) and, I don't know, do shit, and then I'd return home usually with a gash on my knee the shape of Texas. And my mother would say (about the gash) "Let's look at that."
I'd say, it's sore. And she'd get the Bactine and bandages and that would be it.
Which brings me to the present and the planning of every portion of these summer days. Because we live in the city of Los Angeles, on a hill...what am I gonna go? Tell my kids to get on their bikes and be back in a few hours, in time for lunch? Bye! Later! Yeah, sure. Like every other parent I know, I plan...playdates, camp, lessons, "free time," practice time. I get smug thinking that I'm not as neurotic as some, but more so than others. And the truth is that I do love hanging with my kids, but I can't shake those memories of long summer days of self-sufficiency and surprise. And on 100 plus degree days I can all too easily transform into the crankiest (read:meanest) mom superhero on the planet. I imagine giving my son five bucks and leaving him at the Venice bus station with a map of the city and seeing if he could make it home. I think he could, but, (sigh) I'm way too neurotic to try that. Maybe next year. Or maybe when it hits 110 in the shade.
So, then George Carlin dies (bear with me). It's sad, that news. But I can't help being reminded of one of the fucking funniest comedy routines I ever heard as a parent. It's Carlin's riff on childhood and survival of the fittest...and how there was a reason for no car seats and bike helmets and childproof medicine bottles etc. etc., because, and I'm paraphasing really poorly here, childhood should be a survival of the fittest, or at least the less idiotic. And I laugh as I think of his insanely funny renderings. Listen, I wouldn't go back to the seventies if you paid me, and I know not to wax nostalgic for too long on the way my folks didn't parent me, and I do everything I can to keep my kids safe, but I'll tell you, thinking of that Carlin routine on kids and surviving childhood makes me laugh in a way that makes me feel sane and grownup and glad of it. Sort of.
George Carlin RIP. He was to bullshit what Simon Weisenthal was to Nazis.
Keep cool.
