Yeah, There Were Bad Things Too

My friend, Madeline Gornell, said she mainly remembered the bad things from her childhood. So to let you know nothing is every perfect, there were some bad things in my childhood too.

Before you start thinking bad thoughts, I was never molested nor did my parents beat me. Those were the days when parents were allowed to spank their children and I did get whacked with a yard stick by my mom a few times (deserved) and switched with a twig I had to pick out myself once or twice by my dad (also deserved).

I grew up during the second World War and though there were blackouts, air raid drills and what were thought to be real air raids, and shortages and food stamps, I was an optimistic kid and managed to have a good time no matter what was going on.

Yes, I had fights with my girl friends, but they never lasted long.

Once an old man scared me with a gun when I was trick-or-treating by myself (not allowed, but I wanted to gather all the goodies possible since this sweets were one of the things rationed)--it turned out to be his idea of a joke.

My sister disappeared when she was about five. My parents called the police. Everyone in the neighborhood joined in the search. We found her long before the police showed up. Back in that day a missing kid was not a priority.

Someone tried to get into a house while I was babysitting. They'd left me a gun (not smart to do with a 12 year old) and I yelled that I had the gun and whoever it was left. I'd called my dad too, but he arrived long after the intruder was gone.

My boy cousins got me to climb a tree then ran off and left me and I had no idea how to get down. Same boy cousins tied me up to an outdoor incinerator, set a fire and played like they were burning me at the stake. And another time, there'd been a murder in their neighborhood, man chopped someone up with an ax in a basement just like theirs. They asked me if I wanted to go in their basement and see what it was like. I did--then they chased me around with an ax--their idea of teasing. I think they liked to hear me scream.

I saw a dead body in front of a bar while riding the streetcar. I did a lot of walking and riding around by myself. Another time, a man exposed himself to me on the streetcar. I told the conductor on him, but he immediately got off. Once a fellow touched my breast while I was on the streetcar and I clobbered him with the big book I was reading. He got off at the next stop too.

That's about all the bad stuff I can remember. I truly had a blessed childhood.



Popular posts from this blog

it's Not a Cozy! by Mar Preston


A World of Writing Inspiration by Maggie King