I expect God’s legion of Guardian Angels is breathing a sigh of relief. Boomers have grown up and most survived their youth, thanks largely to our Heavenly Helpers.
Today’s children don’t really need Guardian Angels – they have, after all, a doting government bureaucracy and millions of overprotective parents.
If you see a youngster today riding a bike – with parents lurking close by and urging the child to pull up if they hear a car engine – you’ll notice the child wearing a bike helmet. No responsible parent today would allow a child to ride a bike without a helmet, but Boomer kids did.
Boomers remember skinned feet and toes from bike spills, but never in the history of Boomerhood did a bike rider do a complete flip and land on the top of his or her head, which is the only way one of those dorky helmets would have helped.
We weaved in and out of heavy traffic in the middle of town. We rode at night without bicycle lights. We flew down steep hills at warp speed, delighting in going airborne over any makeshift ramp we came across, and we came in at bedtime, usually unharmed. It was, you see, our Guardian Angels on duty.
Even more amazing, Boomers were able to play games among themselves without constant adult supervision or organization. After school, we gathered any among us not belabored with homework and we played baseball, football or basketball, depending on the season. Sometimes we drug girls into our games, though they usually preferred hop scotch – in the middle of the street – or jumping rope so fast you couldn’t see their feet, and they didn’t wear helmets.
Imagine what might have happened if a girl got tangled up in the jumping rope and took a tumble without a helmet? But they never did. Guardian Angels, you see.
The boys played most of their pick up games in the streets. Stickball in the middle of the road was a blast, and many homes had a basketball goal at curbside, so there would be a hard surface on which to dribble. Streets were also natural alleyways for 2 on 2 football games. Funny, but with an army of kids in the streets, there was never a parent lurking close by, screaming that a car may be approaching. Boomers and cars had a special arrangement. We said, “If you cars won’t run us over, we’ll get out of your way when you get close – at least most of the time. If a player was streaking towards the goal line in a tie game of football, the cars would just have to wait a little.
Thanks to a little common sense, some cooperation with the cars and our legion of Guardian Angels, Boomer, kids survived playing in the streets.
We also had – gasp – weapons! Real weapons. Every boy had a knife, usually a trusty Barlow, and we took our knives to school in our pockets, sometime whittling a pencil point during class if the sharpener was occupied.
The greatest childhood possession I ever had was a BB gun, a Daisy Pump Air Rifle. Funny, I never once heard of any Boomer getting their eye shot out with a BB gun, though I do remember having the pump mechanism spring back on my finger once, sending blood gushing in all directions. It was the first time I ever fainted, but as soon as my finger was bandaged, I was shooting my gun again – this time a little more cautious about the cocking apart.
I also had a bow and arrow. This was a real bow with a cedar arrow and a metal, tapered point that would have easily penetrated a human torso. Knowing that, I made it a point not to shoot at human torsos.
We did however, have a questionable activity when several of us would gather around and someone would fire an arrow straight up in the sky, then we ran like hell to find cover so the arrow wouldn’t stick anybody in the top of the head. But, really, why would that happen?
We all had Guardian Angels!