June 5, 2015
Dear Everyone:
Kids! They do the darndest
things.
When I was about five years old, there was this big, old
eucalyptus tree
out behind where all the houses were, in what would now be called an
“undeveloped” area. Someone
had tied a large rope to one of the lower branches of the tree, with a
horizontal stick of some kind tied to the bottom of the rope.
The tree actually stood on a minor slope.
If a kid grasped the stick, he or she could run out around the
tree and swing out over the slope until the rope brought him or her back
to earth at the top of the slope on the other side of the tree.
It was great fun.
Naturally, all the parents forbade all the kids to go anywhere near the
tree.
Naturally, this had very little effect on all of us kids.
There was often a long line of kids waiting their turn to ride
the swing. Which meant
plenty of lookouts to warn if any parents, or any other grownups, came
into view.
One day I was somewhere near the tree and noticed that there was
absolutely no one around. No
line. No waiting for a turn
at the forbidden tree. The
swing was all mine. I could
ride it as many times as I liked.
Until I fell and hurt my arm.
When I got home I told our mother that I had been playing on the (legal)
backyard swing. She took one
look at my arm and pronounced:
“We’re going to see the doctor.”
To which I replied: “It’s
OK. It doesn’t hurt
anymore.”
(New flash: Kids lie,
especially if they think they’re in trouble.)
And that’s how I broke my wrist when I was about five years old.
Fast-forward twenty years or so.
I made a comment about how one of my brothers had broken his arm.
Our mother pronounced, “That’s not how he broke his arm.
He did it falling out of that damned eucalyptus tree out back.”
I laughed out loud as I suddenly realized WHY we were all forbidden to
go anywhere near that tree.
Mother: “You should laugh.
You broke yours falling two feet out of the backyard swing.”
Which is when I realized that I had actually told a BIG LIE and gotten
away with it. I decided not
to disillusion her, even though I was much too big to be spanked for it.
Yesterday I happened to look out the patio door in my living room just
in time to see a kid walking around on the roof of the Clubhouse across
the way. On the
roof.
About one-and-a-half stories up.
Yikes! Liability
lawsuit on the hoof.
I took my cell phone with me, in case I needed to call 9-1-1.
Told him to get down.
(I’m the “mean old lady” who won’t let kids play in the dumpsters,
either.) Put a small padlock
on the outside gate that had given him access to the way up to the roof.
This morning, “Mannie” the Maintenance Guy replaced the little
travel-size lock with a more formal one.
“Riley”, one of the HOA Board members wanted to know if I had
taken the kid’s name so we could notify the parents not to let their kid
play on the roof.
Remembering all those kids waiting in line to use the Forbidden Swing, I
figure a padlock is a lot more effective.
And a sign reading, “Keep Out!
This Means You!”
Love, as always,
Pete
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