At the very core of who we are as baby boomers is the fact that we’re incredibly independent people, but simple. Lest you think I’m calling you a simpleton, let me explain.
The reason for this is because when we were growing up we relied upon ourselves, nature, and really bad pre-Shark Tank inventions to entertain ourselves. (Out of season fireworks were a favorite where I grew up, and about as common as boys nicknamed “Four Fingers.”)
Oh, sure, we can offer up the seemingly obvious reason accounting for this fact, which is that we didn’t grow up during the Digital Age.
Heck, truth be told, I barely got of my 20’s even knowing how to use one of those behemoth, DOS-fueled, landfill-bound early prototypes, let alone being entertained by the blasted thing. But it was something more…or less.
Our parents raised us differently. It was a tougher love these Depression-Era parents offered up, giving us our rallying cry that can be completed by anyone near you, anywhere, anytime, if they’re over the age of 45. “Stop crying or I’ll…” The person will chime right on in with, “…give you something to cry about.” And we laugh about it. Not mirthlessly, but heartily. Almost fondly. Because it was a different time that needs to be viewed in context.
Our generation didn’t dare utter the words, “I’m bored” at home. Well, you might say them out loud once. However, you quickly caught on to the fact that your parents had some not-so-nifty ways of keeping you entertained that always possessed a work element and/or deep cleaning with banned toxic chemicals element. Interestingly enough, another option was they sent you out to the elements.
When we were really little, say, age five, we might hear, “How can you be bored? There’s the whole outdoors to explore. Go outside and play!” when we complained. Weekdays meant you ran outside when you got home from school, returning at dusk. In the summer you ran outside the moment you woke up, returning when it was dark.
As we got older, you know, right around age 11, we were likely to receive the advice to, “Get a job.” Nope, our parents didn’t brook any shilly shallying, dilly dallying, or lollygagging.
And yet some of my fondest memories, particularly in the summertime, are of those times when I had to amuse myself and, possibly, my really quirky childhood sidekick.
The funny thing is our entire generation can pretty much relate to these cheap pursuits, no matter where you hail from. Just as long as you’re from a working class family. You may have been doing the same thing when I was …
- Lying on my back, looking up at the sky, trying to figure out what shape the clouds were in. (Daytime Version.)
- Lying on my back, looking up at the sky, trying to figure out what constellation the stars had aligned into. (Nighttime Version.) P.S. I never got this correct, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do my level best to identify one out of the 15 considered common.
- Lying back in my office chair, working my first office gig, looking up at the ceiling, and counting how many holes there were in one acoustic ceiling tile. (Approximately 5,000 for you inquiring minds.)
- Making a whistle out of a blade of grass. (Google it, whippersnapper. It’s a thing.)
- Braiding grass, twigs, and weeds together into a crown, necklace, or other accessory. (Our generation has always been very environmentally aware and tactile. The latter can get you into trouble when you pair that proclivity with needing to touch cloth. Let your mind embrace the possibilities. Just your mind.)
- Slowing my breathing down and making myself real quiet as I lay down on the floor, not to sleep, next to the vent in my room, listening to my parents as they talked about absolutely nothing of interest to me.
- Placing a penny on the railroad tracks and squishing it into a piece of found art while I stood on my grandmother’s split rail fence, waving at the Union Pacific train conductor as the train whooshed by in a cloud of non-energy-efficient black smoke.
- Combining all of my mom’s lotions, potions, and girl products into one big vat, convincing myself that I was the next Estée Lauder.
- Crafting a skateboard out of skates and a board. Then hauling myself up on that thing, in my prized Keds shoes, trying not to break my spirit nor my rear end.
- Swimming in irrigation ditches, not even thinking about why the water was decorated by those pretty rainbow swirls on the surface. (This was due to chemicals from the nearby orchards. I’m lucky I didn’t grow a tail.)
These were almost sweet recreational activities because no one got hurt. Well, usually. There were random bugs flying into my eyes, close calls with poorly timed runaways from railroad track penny placement, grass stains, irrigation ditch “finds” that scared the bejesus out of me, and a few other occurrences leading to the many fears I’ve amassed over the years.
Comedian Steven Wright was so right when he said, “Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories.” A (non-squished) penny for your thoughts.
Diane Dean-Epps, Writer 