Lazy Bones, Sparing The Rod and Respect For Your Elders

I spent some time reflecting on my younger days a few days ago and was amazed at some of the things that struck me. The first thing that washed over me was a longing for the a simpler time where kids could go around terrorizing the neighborhood without the parents worrying about them getting into too much trouble or being abducted. The reason parents didn't worry about such things so much is they all knew most of the neighbors and their kids and would watch out for them when they were playing nearby. What happened? I remember several of the neighbors actually coming out to say something to me or even pop my butt if I did something wrong and they saw it.

They would always drag me into their house to call my parents or walk me back to my house and tell my Mother or my Daddy what I was doing and whether I got my butt busted for it yet. If any one of the neighbors did this, you could expect another spanking before you even got through your own door very far. My parents never complained about a neighbor spanking me much less thought about suing them. I never would talk back to an adult who was punishing me for fear of making it worse. As I recall, the spankings never really hurt too much with the exception of hurting my feelings. Several swats to my posterior always kept me out of trouble for at least three or four days. I know there are those of you who are appalled at the thought of an adult spanking a child. Remember. It was a different time. Nowadays you can't lay a hand on your kids even if you wanted to. The child might call the State on you if you do or someone might witness the spanking and make the call. Most laws are so loosely written as to not allow a parent to correct a child with corporal punishment such as a swat to the butt. Don't misunderstand what I'm eluding to here. I do not believe, in any way, in physically abusing a child. I do believe, however, that a swift swat to the behind is certainly an attention grabber to a child to let them know what they did or said is not acceptable. I suppose it goes back to the Spare-The-Rod mentality of my parents heyday.

That thought grew into another. When did children loose their respect for elders? Was I on the road singing somewhere and missed the loss of respect for adults by children? I pondered if it could have been the result of technology or was it that all the adults just stopped caring? Maybe it was the technological growth that caused all the disrespect children now exude towards their elders. I remember having a remote control for our television in our house in the early sixties. I know that some of you already knew when remote controls hit the market and some of you just “Googled” it. While the first remote for television, introduced by Zenith Radio Corporation was a wired remote nicknamed 'Lazy Bones' (because it was shaped like a cartoon dog bone), most households couldn't afford one. It wasn't until the Mid-Sixties when a remote control tuner or television set slowly began to ease down in price into the average household's affordable range. My parents were fortunate enough to have their first remote around 1961. I believe that was when my Daddy initially realized he could pop me on the back of the head and tell me to go adjust the volume or change the channel. (Oddly enough for some of you trivia buffs out there, television had reached less than half the world in 1961 and there are still countries today where TV is not available. Tell that to your teenagers and enjoy that look of horror and disbelief spread across their faces. While they're distracted by their thoughts about no TV, pop them on the back of the head and tell them to go clean their rooms. Good luck with that.) I guess the first remote control TV we actually had was purchased in the early Seventies and it was a Color TV! It sure made my life a lot easier. No longer did I get slapped in the back of the head and told to go change the channel. Any time I got smacked back there afterward was referred to as the 'Dumb-Ass' slap. It was used mainly to remind me to respect my elders. At nearly fifty-five years young, I still duck when my Dad reaches behind me for something. Go figure!

Sheep, X-Boxes and Red-Shifted Stars

The following is a post I made to my Facebook account many months ago.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed reading it again.

I began watching a movie on TV this morning titled, "The Story Lady", starring, Jessica Tandy. As I watched, Mrs. Tandy began to read a childrens' story on a Public Access Cable Television show and I remembered reading this along with many other stories as a child and later reading them to my boys when they were young. My mind began to drift back to the days when I was a scrapping young boy running headlong into the world ahead of me. I recalled how fascinating it was back then to find a trail of ants meandering through the bright green carpet of fresh grass in the spring and searching for their home hidden beneath the leaf of one of the weeds growing there. Once the pile of dirt was discovered it became to me a volcano erupting and the ants the flow of lava. I'd always have to find where the lava was flowing to and would follow the ants trail back the other direction. Sometimes it would lead to a piece of candy that I or one of my fellow young adventurers had dropped one day earlier in the week. I'd sometimes never find their destination and would find another interesting thing which took my mind off of the ants as they worked.

A thing struck deep to my core as I was recalling my youthful, imaginative days. I had watched my future Grandchildren playing a so-called Dance Game on their game machine recently. Oh! It's a nice one. The kind that sees your motions and puts YOU into the game. I observed with wonder as they would move their hands in a deliberate 'waving' motion to change things with the menu. I began to get very bored with the "game" very quickly after the technological aspect of the game system's limitations were realized. I stood there mesmerized! Not with the game or the system but with the children! They were imitating what they saw on the screen to get points. No use of their minds at all. It's as if they became hypnotized to all the motion, sound and colors coming from the system. It's as if the game was calling after them to "Just follow me"!

We have, through our busy work schedules and activities in places like Facebook, become a Nation of sheep! Our children are taught more and more to be a follower or a (God! I hate this term!) "Team Player"! They are taught to follow and not to lead. Following is something for the weak and for those who can't think for themselves. They neglect homework and even school to play games and chat with their "friends" on MySpace or Facebook. Hell! Most kids even have phones with internet access and have games loaded on the phones. Why do parents no longer engage their children at early ages. My parents worked and I had chores, homework and guitar practice to keep me busy. I still had time to find new adventures out in the yard or in the woods across the street. Many of my contemporaries enjoy playing computer games. I have tried to play games many times before on the computer or with game systems but I always get very bored very quickly with them. I suppose it's because I'm not a sheep. I'd rather spend my energies using my imagination to help me come up with ways of doing things or to write songs or to make something or.........you get the picture.

I still enjoy going outside to stand and look around if nothing else. I watched a young Praying Mantis the other day for at least an hour. I was enthralled with this natural born killer. While studying him, I imagined what would happen if a slower moving moth might light near him. I could actually see the attack and subsequent meal that would surely follow in my mind. When out at night, I always look up to the stars. I can stand there naming to myself all the constellations that I remember and try to determine which of the lights up there is planet or star. I'll identify whether a star is red or blue shifted as best I can without the aid of a telescope or other instrumentation. My mind always wanders to what might exist out there. I picture what other strange worlds might look like. It's not because I'm old and can't move around well. I stay still and observe because it always leads to my imagination kicking in and taking me places I'll never be able to go and helps me dream up new things that maybe, just maybe no one else has come up with yet.

I'm glad I was brought up NOT to be a sheep but to be a leader. A thinker brought up to know how the imagination can work miracles! How it can make you be anyone or anything you choose. How it can make you travel to the other side of the world, the solar system, the universe and more without leaving the comfort of your recliner. Sheep are dumb and that's why they follow and need direction. Thinkers find a direction where the trail seems impassible or nonexistent. Here's some food for thought. Where would this world be now if folks like Aristotle, Newton, Da Vinci, Columbus, Beethoven, Renoir, Elvis, Einstein, Herbert, Hawking and so many others be if they all grew up with an X-Box Live? Kinda sends a chill up your spine, Huh?

Freebird, Lightening Bolts and a Forty-Four Magnum

Getting older is both a blessing and a curse. I have been cursed with some not-so-good health issues this last year. Just like “....the Bastards....” I refuse to let them get me down. On the other hand, the blessings are many!

Think about it. As you get older, you can make your child's life a living hell. When my Stepdaughter from the second marriage was waiting on her first date to pick her up, I readied myself for the meeting. I had every large hunting knife unsheathed and placed within my reach on the couch. I also had every firearm within reach as well. My Ruger, Super Redhawk, .44 Magnum, fitted with a 2-to-1 Leopold scope was ready and on the coffee table. I had been cleaning it and awaited the arrival of the boy to complete the cleaning as I spoke with him. Six rounds of rather large, impressive looking .44 Mag cartridges were near the revolver cleaning area. The doorbell rang! Time for my plan to unfold.

I opened the door to find a young man of very slight build and less than normal stature for his age. He introduced his self then I shook his hand and deliberately did not give him my name. I simply turned around without saying a word and sat down on the couch in the middle of all my guns and knives. I looked up to find he'd stepped into the apartment only far enough to see that I was surrounded by as many weapons as he'd seen in his lifetime outside a sporting goods store. I just waved my hand towards a recliner without uttering a sound. He quickly took the seat he was offered and began to speak nervously about how he was happy to finally meet me and how much he liked my Stepdaughter and how he planned on treating her with respect and on, and on, and on! I lifted my hand with a single outstretched finger. He immediately stopped speaking in the middle of a word. I picked up the Super Redhawk and polished on it's stainless steel surface for just a second then began placing the cartridges into the cylinder slowly and deliberately. His eyes were as big as dinner plates and I noticed he was holding his breath. I finished loading the revolver and looked up at him as I closed the cylinder into the frame of the massive gun. As the cylinder clicked into place, I said my first words to him since he arrived. I asked, “Now. What time did you say you were going to have her back home?” Long story short. He brought her home an hour and a half early and never called her back. I love it when a plan comes together!

Another incident occurred while I resided in Cheyenne, Wyoming. My two boys were out for a summer visit and we were walking around the Downtown area doing some shopping. There are a couple of intersections which are nearly impossible to cross certain times of the day and we were standing at the crosswalk of one during the lunch rush-hour. Between turning cars and others running red lights, we had been standing there for three traffic light cycles (Red-yellow-green) when I got too impatient and told them to follow me. The light turned yellow and I just stumbled onto the street walking with a pronounced “spastic” gate and posture. I could hear screeching tires the whole time I walked across the busy intersection. I got to the other side safely and without a scratch and turned around to find my boys had walked to the corner diagonally from me and would not acknowledge me calling out to them. I miss those days of embarrassing them at every turn! What fun it was!

I anticipate this upcoming Christmas Shopping Season with baited breath. One of the things I have found to occupy myself with in the mall is finding the Santa Photo area. I like to camp out there. Not because I'm a Perv but because it can be fun to ruin a parent's afternoon. Hear me out. There are ages when babies' dispositions and toddlers' moods may be altered with minimal effort. You know those ages if you've raised more than one child yourself. I like to find one of these children and take a stance directly behind the parent and photographer. I like to get the child's attention and begin acting like I'm starting to cry. The child will always notice this (I don't know why) and begin to make the dreaded crying pout. The parent and the photographer always compound it by getting louder when this begins and the variance of their vocal timbre inevitably pushes the child over the edge into a crying fit that cannot be easily halted. I love it! It may be noted here that my Fiancee says that I'll be struck with a lightening bolt directly in the top of the head one day for all the things I do. R-i-i-i-i-i-i-g-h-t!

Another one of the things I find amusing is riding by large gatherings with the windows down. As I near the crowd of people, I begin to blow the horn and start shouting “John!” or “David!” or “Amy!” over and over as I wave emphatically at the crowd. If you're lucky someone in the crowd will wave back at you and wonder who it was that was waving at them for at least the next week. If not, at least they'll all be wondering just who the hell you were for quite a while.

For all the men reading this there are some things you might want to try the next time you find yourself shopping with the family. If you have a teenager that is giving you grief, tell them quite loudly so that everyone nearby hears it that if they don't settle down and leave you alone, you'll pick them up and throw them over your shoulder and carry them around the store. As soon as they make some comment then turn around, ambush them and throw them over your shoulder and start walking. Be sure to hold on tight as they may try to get away from you. They'll behave the next time you're with them in the store.

Have you ever “lost” your spouse while shopping? You know? You gravitated towards Sporting Goods, Tools or Electronics while she shopped for a new brazier. You were done listing things on your Wish List and tried to find her where you left her only to find she'd wandered off. You then decided to send her a text asking her where she was to which she never answered. When you find yourself in this circumstance, do this. Start running up and down every isle yelling to the top of your lungs this one, simple word. “MOM!” When she finds you, as loudly as you can, tell her you're going outside, getting into your pickup truck, smoke a joint and finish your beer.  As soon as you finish the word "beer", take a good, deep breath, lean right up into her face and begin singing Freebird as loudly and as off-key as possible. Don't be surprised if she tells you she'll catch a ride home. Either way. You're free to leave and go to your favorite bar or hospital, depending whether she knocks the hell out of you with the new iron skillet she picked up to buy. Are you getting all this?

Another thing that's really fun to do is sit or stand very still and look very sad somewhere near a heavily trafficked area. When someone sits or stands next to you and begins to talk to you, look up at them as shocked as you can. When they notice your expression, tentatively whisper to them with a shocked stutter, “Y-You can s-s-see m-me?”. If they answer you, run away from them as quickly as you can. This one's always a winner while waiting on someone at the airport! Be on the lookout for plain-clothes security or men in white coats if you do.

I realize these types of things are a far cry from the old, “Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” prank phone calls that were popular in my very early years. The point is as you get older, people tend to cut you more slack and overlook the things you do for which a younger man might get arrested. I still get a chuckle when I see the picture of the old lady in a rocker, smoking a joint and flipping the photographer off! I enjoy these times of unbridled, uninhibited freedom. I've worked hard for them. If you're like me, over half-a-century old and crazy as Hell, never miss an opportunity to try and make someone think or laugh. Both thinking and laughing are good for people these days. Even you!

Until next time.

Toodles!

WTF? No Posts?

A new post every Wednesday before 6:00 AM, beginning October 17, 2012!

Be sure to check back each Wednesday!

Until then,

Toodles!

Post Script:  You can learn more about me by going here:
Lance E. Davis on ReverbNation