Don’t run, it’s not safe!

In one of Kilgore Trout’s comments, he talks about childhood and growing up. “Most of the best parts of childhood have the line ‘I can’t believe no one got serious hurt.’ Children need time to be children, they need to experience life on their own … When do they get to just do the stupid things that kids do simply because they’re kids?”

Then from Cerebral: “I knew what it was like to just be a kid and care about nothing. We did shit just to have fun with no one to tell us ‘you can’t do that because it’s not safe.’ ”

This two guys set my thoughts moving backwards and I recalled five such stunts, mostly though where I was the one who usually hurt myself. They weren’t all that dangerous; they were horrible then and maybe even so when remembered today.

1) Like: In order to play baseball with an older crowd of kids, I made them give me “Four Strikes!” because I owned the only baseball bat around. And one day I decided to call the game after 4 innings and took my bat home with me. Not long after that, those guys pooled enough money among themselves to buy their own bat. Whenever I’d come around, they’d called me “Strike Four” and you’re out of here, get lost. Someone later told me that they were going planning to let me play today and then bean me. I didn’t have to be told to get lost. I got lost!

2) Like: This is one episode that hurt my ego. When it came time to catch the Sunday school bus, I used to hide to avoid going. Then it came to pass I had to go or else. The nuns were preparing us kids for our First Communion. The whole class went up to the church proper to practice going to confession. One of the nuns was playing the part of the priest and went into the center closet-like box. Each of us went into the confessor’s closet-like box and by rote gave his or her confession the way we studied it.

My turn came, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned….” “Louder, please, louder.” So I’m shouting at the top of my voice. I heard the nun’s door swing open and slam shut and my door suddenly wrenched open. The whole class were arranged behind the teaching nun to see…Me, on my knees on the floor…and they laughed in an uproar. No one told me you’re supposed to kneel on this kneeler, shelf-like rest and get close to the screen between you and the priest, in this case the nun. My face and neck turned red, then purple with shame as the other kids laughed and laughed.

3) Like: We had a vicious dog who stayed on the side porch of the house were there was a runner wire down the steps and along side of the house. Our neighbor’s fence was about seven feet away. I was six or seven. I remember how I loved to taunt the bigger, older kids, call them names, bad names, swearword names. And I get chased by three, sometimes five kids. I’d run like the blazes and headed down the side of my house to the side porch to KoKo. The guys would be hot on my tail. And then suddenly, WOOF! WOOF! and bursting out from the small porch cane KoKo. It was so much fun to see them skid around, making U-turns.

One awesome day — you guessed it — KoKo wasn’t there and I got clobbered. Later I asked my older brother, Richard, where’s my Koko? Dad took him to the vet for some shots. Oh nooooo.

4) Like: I was about twelve and had a home lab in my bedroom. I got all the books and lab equipment and chemicals for my lab without my Dad knowing he was paying for it all. My Mom keep the books and wrote the checks for the household.




I needed some Red Amorous Phosphorus to make contact bombs and I called this commercial chemical lab in Pittsburgh and said I was Sci-Chemical Company and ordered it COD. Their truck pulled up the next business day and a guy brings to our front door this large wooden, rectangular-like crate that was filled with fireproof pebbles //I found out later// and my mom wrote him a check for — I don’t remember but it was probably under $20 including delivery.

I took it up to my bedroom and opened the twisted wires on the crate and found in the center of all those pellets this metal can the size of a large coffee mug. There were all kinds of red labels all over the can. I got busy in my lab using the ingredient I previously lacked and then decided to put the can of stuff back in the crate and hide it from my father in the attic. That I did and I used up about a fourth of the can making contact bombs and that red amorous phosphorus stayed up the attic for about 3 years.

When it was time to get rid of my lab, this guy my family knew came over and loaded up the stuff for his kid. Hey, Ed, I’ve got this chemical up in the attic for you, too. Ed was in his late twenties. Hey, are you nuts? Or just lucky. See this on the can about what temperature to store this stuff. With the heat and humidity around here in summer, this stuff could have combusted and burned your father’s house down. You’re a dumb but a lucky kid.

5) Like: The Italian club in the next neighborhood got the first TV set in town. They set it on a stage in front of folding chairs and let us neighborhood kids in at 4 p.m. when the station started its broadcast of puppets: Koola, Fran and Ollie followed by a old western.

A year or so later our neighbor in back bought a TV and I was invited to their home to watch TV with their two kids. When they went on vacation, they let me have the key to their house so I could watch my favorite shows on TV. One evening I twisted this knob and that one but couldn’t get a clear picture. Then I had an idea. Why not unplug the TV and replug it and that would reset it. Well, I did it and there was this tremendous white flash. Their TV died and I killed it.

I was in a stew while they were away. I lied when they returned from their vacation. There must have been a storm, and lightning hit it. Isn’t it grounded? I wanted to watch their TV again. Needless to say, I was never invited to their home again.

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