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By
Elise
Dead Rebel Of The Week
~ Childhood Freedom ~
The emergence of the Fat Kid has been on the rise ever since “GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY” apparently died to be quickly followed in death by its gay life partner, “Go ahead and touch that. Just don’t come crying to me when your hand gets chopped off.” It’s like, once that went, a certain childish freedom died right along with it and now children are content to sit on their asses eating ho ho’s and watching Nu Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (which fucking suck compared to the originals). Or they are too busy playing PS2 for hours instead of running off those 20 extra pounds OUTSIDE. To this day, the greatest toy my sister and I ever got was our swing set. After the swings rusted off we turned it into a gymnastics bar from which we practiced flipping off the top of it until my fat friend, Monica, straddled it and it broke in two. Even then, we took the two rusted poles that were left and made them our light sabers. After our parents were informed that rusted metal can cause tetanus, we still played “Star Wars” on the condition that we would try our best not to stab each other with them. The wreckage of that swing set is still sitting in a sandbox in my parents’ back yard - rotting. I’d like to believe it’s still there because of sentimental reasons, standing for a time when being outside was the greatest thing for a child, but actually it’s mostly because my parents are lazy drunkards and probably don’t realize it’s still there. Regardless of that, I want to celebrate the Dead Rebels of Go Outside and Play! who were alive long before most kids had a television in their rooms, 24 hour Nintendo-thons, and 50 pounds of thigh rolls and back fat.
My sister and I NEVER stayed indoors and it wasn’t just because we got bored watching my mom snoring while passed out on the couch. Even if there was a freaking blizzard outside, I still got all bundled up and went outside. In fact, I distinctly remember playing Inspector Gadget with the neighbor kid and fighting over who got to be Penny. I took an icicle and smacked her right in the face with it. We were never allowed to play Inspector Gadget again, but we still played outside that entire winter.
When I was 7, I told my stepdad I was going to run away. He laughed and choked out, “Whatever kid. Be back when the street light comes on.” He watched me pack up all my Barbies in a little knapsack and even helped me tie it to the handle bar of my Strawberry Shortcake Big Wheel. Of course, after circling the block a couple of times, I noticed the street lamp had turned on. Hungry and tired, I packed it in and went home. I didn’t worry about getting kidnapped because in my town there was no such thing as stranger danger. I never had to worry about pedophiles or child molesters because even when I thought I was alone, my neighbors were looking out for me. Back then, being outside was freeing. We didn’t worry about Peter the Pedophile lurking down the street, and not one of us even fathomed that we could ever be kidnapped. That kind of thing only happened to city kids and farm animals. Nowadays, you will never see children without parents at a playground. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I saw a kid just hanging around somewhere with his or her friends without a parent to eye their every move.
And besides parents eagle eyeing their children outdoors, why should a kid go play outside when they have all this cool shit right in their bedrooms? I remember when being grounded in your room was the WORST THING EVER! Now it’s like Toys R Us has thrown up in every bedroom across the nation. I would want to be sent to my room too if it was equipped with a TV and a Playstation. I was THE LAST kid to ever have a Nintendo and I was in high school when that happened. Although, by that time, I was more interested in promiscuous unprotected sex and underage drinking and driving than worrying about a stupid Nintendo.
IF IT WAS SAFE FOR ME, IT’S SAFE FOR YOU!
I remember the days when I rode my bike everywhere, and when I did ride in a car, I never even thought once to put on my seatbelt. I distinctly remember my sister and I trying to out bounce each other in the backseat. These days you practically need a five point harness to go anywhere. We rode in the backs of trucks and encouraged our dad to drive faster and on bumpier roads so we could get some “air.”
Not only did we never worry about getting our skulls crushed in horrible car accidents, but we also never suspected our neighbors of poisoning us. Every Halloween I walked up to what seemed like hundreds of strangers’ houses for candy and I don’t think my parents “checked” one single piece for glass or poison. In fact, I think their idea of “checking” would be eating half of it to ensure it wasn’t “poisonous.” My friends and I went to every single house within a 10 block radius for candy, but now we only take our kids to Trick-or-Treat with people who we know. It’s too bad for my kids that the only people we know are poor bitches who pass out baby tootsie rolls and 5 cent suckers. My kids will never know the glory of opening their Halloween bags and discovering that king size Snickers bar.
When I was a child, there were no baby gates either. My sister and I were too busy playing with the baby, and when she did fall that one time, she was so freaked out (and probably a bit brain damaged) that she never did it again. Instead of stove guards, I got to burn myself on the oven until I learned that getting burnt on a hot stove fucking sucks and I really didn’t care for my skin being black and extra crispy.
When I was younger, we used to go out to the country and play in ditches. And when I say we played in ditches, I mean we played in big ass ditches filled with at least 3 feet of water and mud. We would dunk each other and throw mud on each other’s faces in an effort to see who could asphyxiate who first. And come to think of it, my parents never knew CPR and I think my sister drowned at least 3 times one summer. How she lived is completely beyond me. Of course, I am convinced her experiences are probably the reason why she is such a bitch now and won’t put her face in water. However, karma was incredibly kind and she ended up being a record holding swimmer… for the backstroke.
When I was kid, if my mom had ever been conscious enough to watch my sister and me, we surely would have died of The Embarrassment. Unfortunately, the behavior of a few very sick people has made the chaperoned non-freedom of children playing outside not only a chore to the parent, but a necessity. And now, if you don’t put a safety latch on every little thing, you are putting yourself at risk for a visit from Social Services for child abuse. Although I can’t really argue with the seatbelt laws, I do admit that from time to time I just park the car, step out in the sun, and make my kids jump around the backseat for sport. All in memory of innocent childhood freedom, of course.
