I grew up in the fifties Β and didnβt expect much. Β I didnβt feel deprived, just understood the situation. Β All the family toys fit in a medium-sized box and were shared. We had mean cousins who regularly tore them up, so storage wasnβt a problem. Β If we realized they were coming and had time, we locked them in my parentβs Β bedroom, but nothing was foolproof. Β Those hellions could ferret out a steel marble locked in a safe and tear it up. No kid I knew laid no claim to a television, radio, or record player. Β We were free to watch or listen along with our parents.
Most of mine and my brotherβs time was spent outdoors. Β We had the run of our property, including a large two-story barn, so we never had to stay indoors, even in rain or rare icy weather. Β βGet your jacket and shoes and socks on before you go to the barn.β Β I was more concerned about getting out than I was about bad weather, so Iβd gladly have gone barefoot and jacketless, given the chance. Β Mother, a pessimist, foolishly believed in hookworms, stray nails, and broken glass. Β I knew better, but she stayed on me. Β It was a real downer. Β If I got wet, I certainly didnβt come in to dry off and change shoes.. Β Most likely, I was wearing my only shoes. Β Should Mother notice wet feet or muddy clothes, we might be stuck indoors for the day or till our jackets and shoes dried Β I learned early that if you stay out in your wet things, pretty soon they lose that discolored, wet look. Β Besides if you play hard enough, you generate some heat.
Our barn was two stories with a gigantic open door centering the second where Daddy backed up his truck up to load or unload hay. Β It was a thrill to get a running start and fly to the ground eight or ten feet below. Β Dry weather provided the softest landings since thick, shredded hay and powdery manure make a decent cushion. Β Even the most determined jumper soon learned the folly of jumping on a rainy day. Β It was too easy to slide into something horrible. Β Regular wet clothes arenβt too bad, but malodorous puddles and cow pies should be avoided at all costs. Β No one ever broke an arm or neck.
Playing on the square hay bales without damaging them is an art worth learning. Β Tearing up baled hay quickly got us expelled from the barn as well as plenty of trouble. Β It didnβt take long to discover which friend could be trusted to do right. Β Billy and I policed them Β and put a stop to tearing up bales. Β Daddy had a stacking method we knew not to mess up. The cats loved the barn, busying themselves with the rats who also made themselves at home. Β Knowing rats hid in our playhouse made them no less scream-worthy, though we werenβt afraid of them, often hurling corncobs at them. Β I donβt think I was ever fast enough to do any damage. Β Sometimes we were a little mor effective with slingshots or a BB gun.
A covered area below the loft was intended for equipment storage. Β Interestingly, only the broken equipment was under the shed. Β Presumably, repairs were started and abandoned there. Β The good stuff sat out in the open. Β Very little Space was taken up feed. Β Mostly, it served as a repository for junk items. One of the most interesting Β was a rough wooden box with filled with letters and personal items both parents brought to the marriage. Β WeΒ were forbidden to open that box on pain of death, so were sneaky as we prowled through it, enjoying Β the pictures and letters from old sweethearts, navy Β memorabilia including a gigantic pin used to close Daddyβs navy gear bag, six two-inch chalkware dolls in their original box, and Β two enormous carved ebony spoons featuring a naked man and a woman with pendulous bosoms. Β I can only assume Mother was too much of a coward to hang those shocking spoons on her kitchen wall. Β Her sister, Anne, in the WACS had brought them home as a gift to Mother, a woman who wouldnβt Β say butt or titty, euphemizing with βyour sitting down place βor βchestβ if absolutely necessary. What a waste. Β If fondling ebony wood breasts makes a pervert, I signed on early. TheΒ man was not anatomically correct or the guilt would have undone me.. Β The pity of it was, I couldnβt ask questions about any of those treasures since Β the Β boxes were strictly off limits. Β Sadly, the rats devoured the letters long before I learned to read, though Phyllis bragged she got to read some. Β I prefer to think she was lying.
Lean-to sheds with stalls flanked the left side and back of the barn. Β We frequently snitched oats and Β one lured the horse near the rail partitions dividing the stalls while the other slid on for a brief ride, then switch around for the other to ride. Β We badgered Daddy Incessantly to saddle the horse for us, until one fine day when I was about ten, he told us we could ride any time we wanted if we could saddle the horse ourselves. Β Weβ never expected that. Β Billy and I did the old oat trick and had the horse saddled in minutes. Β We rode any time we wanted after that. Β I know the horse hated what was coming, but could never resist the oats.
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