Throwing Rocks

Thought For The Day

In the unconventional life of the kid there are many traps for tunnel vision moments. The is nothing beyond the challenge, nothing beyond the dare, only the excitement of the competition and the possibility of the win.

Living in a 1950's neighborhood in Saginaw, Michigan offered many perks, not the least of which was the possibility of walking over to a friends house after school. Subdivisions were something in the future, busing was minimal so bikes, walking and on rare occasions drop offs were the norm. This meant that after school the possibility existed for a visit to a friend's. So on one such opportunity I was invited to go to Mike Pohlman's house after school and that is what I did. As a matter of fact there were three of us who made that walk, Mike, Gordon Cann and me. I am reasonably sure that we were in the seventh grade, twelve years old.

Walking over to visit a friend is always an adventure and when there are three there is an inevitable built in challenge match of things to stretch the limits of good taste. That's what twelve year old boys do. A lot of the matches are bluff and empty bravado but if you can convince others that you would do something it is almost as good as the deed itself, better if you consider the consequences.

Our final challenge match occurred right at the driveway of Mike's house. We had been bragging about our great skills the whole way home and now that we were there something had to happen so Mike said that there was no way way anyone could hit the flood light on the garage at the end of the driveway. He said that we each could use three throws and that we should each select three rocks compatible with the event. That done we stepped to the marked line on the sidewalk and prepared for the games.

Each of us made our initial toss and were unsuccessful. Now began the trash talk, prelude to adrenaline psychosis and the second round of throws, no Kewpie Doll. Now began the disclaimers: It's too far, No one could do that, This is ridiculous and when the pressure was reduced the accuracy improved and the target got bigger and the rocks got closer and when I made the last throw, I hit it squarely in the center and smashed it to smithereens much to the chagrin of Mike, Gordon and me. Now what?

There were angry parents to deal with, repair costs to consider, restricted activity was introduced, no more kids over after school, it was awful. Some things never change.

Herb Ratliff, May 4, 2012, All Rights Reserved