For about 10 to 12 years of my life there was only one person, in the whole world, that I saw year round. And that was my younger brother. Our parents divorced when I was about four years old. And after a couple of years they lived about 1000 miles apart. So they had to figure out a way for my brother and me to spend time with both of them. And I think that’s part of the reason why we both learned to improvise for real life so well.
Our dad taught us how to improvise for real life, too.
And one thing he taught us led me to send a picture of something, I found on the ground, to my younger brother. Before I tell you what that was I gotta mention how he and I had a falling out and didn’t even see each other for about 15 to 18 years. Sadly, we don’t share the same worldview, but at least we reconnected a couple of years ago. And now we chat regularly, through messaging apps, and even see each other occasionally.
Our most recent chat, this morning, started with a picture I sent my brother of a lead weight for balancing tires. I spotted it during a walk with Elgielene. And I told her that I bet my brother would recall what we did in our lives that would make me send him that picture. Sure enough, he replied with “melting down for fishing weights.”
When he and I used to ride with my dad, in his step-van delivery truck, dad told us to keep our eyes open at every stop sign in red light. Because you could almost always find those balancing weights laying next to the curb or somewhere close. When we had a good-size collection of them, the three of us would melt down the lead and pour it into old spoons to make weights for our saltwater fishing rod and reels.
My brother then reminded me of how he and I used to collect matchbooks. And we got a very large collection with a wide variety of styles and logos. The collection would probably be worth some money now. A lot of of them we found the same way that we found those lead weights, standing in the door of dad’s delivery truck. Others we just found along whatever path we were taking to get from someplace to another.
Then I remembered another story of improvisation.
When we were about 12 and 10, we lived in Pasadena, Texas, only about 12 miles from the San Jacinto Monument. And one day we decided to take a bike ride there with a couple of our friends. So, we headed out, rode to the monument, spent some time there checking things out, and then decided it was time to go home.
But being still somewhat young, we hadn’t planned well enough with water and food. And we didn’t have any money left. And we only made it a few miles back toward home before getting very tired. We figured we’d better call dad to come pick us up with his step-van. So, one of us got a flat, but nobody had even a dime to make a call. We made it to a gas station, looked around for coins, and found a penny. Then we took turns scraping the penny on the asphalt until it was small enough to fit into the payphone like a dime.
We made the call, dad came and picked us up (only a little perturbed with us), and we all lived to tell the story.
After we chatted about that story, my brother and I recalled our improvised polo games on our stingray bicycles using baseball bats and aluminum cans. More than once, somebody ended up with bruised legs or feet.
Then we listed how we rode around on homemade go-karts that dad built using lawnmower motors for power. Plus, he showed us how to fly our kites using our saltwater rods and reels to reel in the kites. We were the envy of the block.
And what do you do when there’s no real fog to play hide and seek in?
That’s right. You improvise.
And we did every time the mosquito spray trucks would come around and dispense all that DDT fog. Yeah, we even lived to tell that story. Go figure.
Then there were what we called the Honda Hills, where we rode our bicycles first. And eventually rode motorbikes of one kind or another. And that little spot also had a funky little pond where we would go fishing with dad sometimes.
We agreed that we definitely had it better, and had a lot more fun, than kids who spend their days and nights glued to the so-called games on their smartphones and other devices. Plus, it gave us an encyclopedia of these irreplaceable glory stories.
Nowadays, you might hear a kid say that an app isn’t working right, so they have to improvise. But back then we had to improvise for real life. And sometimes it meant the difference between getting a ride or walking a bike for miles and miles.
I bet you have some stories like that, too. If so, I hope you’re like me and you thank God for that wonderful time of your life. We were truly blessed to be challenged in those ways. I wish more kids could experience that kind of America now. But I doubt if we ever see those kinds of days again here in America.
So, cherish the day AND your good memories. And I’ll talk to you again soon. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be…
Down By The Creek Bank
Down by the creek bank…
Sittin’ on a tree stump…
Listenin’ to the birds sing…
Lookin’ at a frog jump…
Thinkin’ lots of nice thoughts…
Sippin’ on a sweet tea…
Writin’ down a few words…
When they come and greet me…
Watchin’ little squirrels run…
Climbin’ up the oak trees…
Lyin’ in the green grass…
Waitin’ for a cool breeze…
Stayin’ till it’s twilight…
Catchin’ me a firefly…
Down by the creek bank…
Life is passin’ by. © 2013 TF
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