Times were different back in the 60’s growing up on King Street in Arbuckle. Incredibly different! I experienced so much more freedom back in those days. We would eat at whatever friend’s house we were closest to (many times throughout the day) and drink out of the garden hose. We rode in the back of pickups and survived. I don’t remember the Ford Galaxy 500 having seat belts.
Our mode of transportation was the bicycle and Evel Knievel was the rage. If he could jump ramp to ramp with his bike, so could we. I still wear the scar to prove it honorably etched in my forehead! I know helmets to be a good thing now.
We went wherever we could peddle, wherever we wanted but knew it was time to head home quickly when the street lights came on. And we took care of each other!
There was once a tree on the southwest end of the street. The ‘King Street Gang’ spent a lot of time hanging around it. A better description would be up in it. We were pretty much out of trouble up in that tree. I vividly recall a situation that contradicted our peace though, mine mostly. As usual with misfortune, it occurs when one is not paying attention and includes a bit of goofing off. I fell. The short of the story is that I found myself wedged tightly between tree branches; stuck in a fork. I had no balance and no way to grab anything to pull myself up and out. It was literally my rock and hard place.
I painfully remember that the gang was no help. They were too busy laughing. I wasn’t feeling the humor in it. I was in a dreadful predicament and was spiraling toward a conclusion in my childish brain that I was headed of extinction. It appeared as if my friends had reached the same conclusion because they bolted all at the same time and left me to my demise. One of the gang darted into his home two houses down from where I floundered. Four houses down I lost sight of the second as he disappeared inside. My last remaining hope was with my Sister, but she escaped my sight into the last house on the block. Things weren’t looking so good.
I struggled to come to grips with my dilemma and inevitable passing. What transpired next is probably the first of many miracles I have experienced in my life. My Mom rocketed out of our home with my Sister in hot pursuit. They were joined by our friend and his Dad. The last of the gang and his Mom rounded out my rescue party as all congregated back my way. As they grasped my situation as I reminiscence, I do believe everyone had another good laugh. Not me! It didn’t take long for that other Dad of my childhood to extract me from my precarious circumstance and place me again on solid ground. I have gotten over my devastation of that day and can now join in the laugh at my expense.
My challenge this week is simple. Don’t leave anyone hanging; let’s take care of one another! We can use the change to what I fear has become status quo and benefit from the positive mental attitude it will create. Thanks for following the column. Leave your comments at Scott@Arenscp.com ■