When I was a kid, growing up on a pig farm in South Georgia, our ‘farm’ and home were surrounded by big fields of peanuts, corn, milo and soybeans.
After a good rain, we kids of the white trash persuasion and a few children of darker hue would head out into the fields and look for rain water that would pool up in certain low spots of these fields and go swimming.
Not only were some of these pools 3’ to 4’ deep, but they would also have a slimy purple, pink, gold and silver sheen to them…..
Insecticide….Pesticide….fertilizer; chemical and anal….(Horse poop in layman’s terms) We didn’t know that then, of course….We just thought it made the water pretty.
We’d swim in it all day!
We got it in our eyes… our noses….spit it at each other, probably had pee in it too.
We’d be tusslin’ and fightin’, playin’ Civil War or Indians….Pushing each other down, dunking each other under the shiny purplish pink water…..
The best of times…..
Then we would walk home, take a bath, eat supper and go to bed, dream about doing it all over again in the morning.
Couldn’t sleep….Couldn’t wait….
Didn’t glow in the dark….No extra eyes or legs….Not sterile…
Made my pecker really big, though…
Sorry, I couldn’t help it!
Now….all grown up?
I’m a fat, lower middle class white guy; starving from a diet and taking high blood pressure medicine.
What sparked this post is that I just walked thru an oily water puddle in a truck stop parking lot and got my foot wet, causing me to almost shit my pants.
I ran for my truck, kicked off my sneaker and proceeded to dry off my feet, wipe them both down with some baby wipes and rubbed hand sanitizer all over them, between the wet and dry piggy’s and put on a fresh pair of socks.
I put baby powder in my extra pair of dry shoes, slipped the shoes on…andv“Safe….! ”
There ain’t no tellin’ WHAT was in that damn water! was the prevailing thought.
That’s when I thought of this post:
I am a big fat girly man now…..
How much things have changed.
How resilient and indestructible we were as kids.
How soft I am now….literally.
Scared of living…..scared of dying.
We never thought about that stuff back then.
Only candy, toys and adventure!
My parents would have had to torture me to death to get me to eat broccoli….
Now I love the shit….
What’s up with that…?
If my kids had done some of the things I had done when I was their age, and I had seen them do it, I’d had a heart attack right there and died….Climbing trees like I did? HELL NO!!!
Eating strange berries in the woods because they looked good?
It’s amazing I’m alive.
I’ll have to tell you about the ‘pokeberry’ happening sometime….wandering around naked, following little animals, throwing rocks at the moon….
It was the 70’s man….
Sneaking up on snakes to catch ’em……?
Jumping bikes off hills or 2×6’s propped up on a cinder block or two.…?
It’s a miracle I had any children at all….
What happened to us?
Why does growing up have to change anything?
I wish I still believed in the boogeyman.
He was the monster that kept us in line if we didn't eat our veggies or pick up our clothes.
Ultimate, final…. Horrific justice.
And he was under my bed.
Do you remember looking under your bed for a monster?
The anticipation, the terror, the excitement…!?
What if he fucking grabbed you, would you scream or just die right there!?
I can almost feel it again.
The horror of looking under the bed, waiting for the scaly claw!
I wish I believed in Santa again.
Finding out, that he's supposedly "not real" ?
Parents should be put to death for killing Santa in the eyes and hearts of their children.
It's time to grow up!
Well, reality sux…
Do you still believe in Santa?
Of course you do…
So do I.
They'll never make me believe he's not real.
Just between you and me….
I've seen him…
I knew it.
I wish that I actually expected that wishes could come true.
Not based on finances or circumstances.
I'll save that post for tomorrow.
Bottom line, literally….
Being grown up sucks sometimes…..