What They're missing

They have built a new park in town. It’s pretty slick. Shiny bright plastic structures with slides, and ramps, and all sorts of cool things to crawl on and through and over. Everything is smooth, and soft, and rounded; there isn’t a sharp edge to be found.

Things were different when I was a kid. The slides were metal and under the summer sun they reached a temperature that could grill a steak. The areas were separated by splintering wood held in place with spikes and pipes. Swings were always attached with what may have been meat hooks. The “merry go round” was simply a spinning instrument of nausea and injury. Its main purpose was to teach children about Newton’s first law of physics: that an object in motion tends to stay in motion. It also gave the bigger kids a lot of good exercise trying to see if they could get us sick enough to throw up. The teeter totter was another tool for teaching physics, and a little bit of social dynamics. Larger kids liked to play with us on that toy. A few "gently" teasing minutes hoisted in the air, a little begging and tears, and then the drop of death.

There was a thick rope hanging from a tree 3/4 of the way up a high hill. One would grip the knot and race down the hill and then arc out into space, swinging gently over a 60 foot drop, spinning slowly to glide gently into the hillside backward where a rock or tree root would leave the bruise of courage upon one's back. Good times.

Parents saw nothing wrong with these playgrounds. In fact, as long as we stayed out of the house, they were fine with whatever we did as long as the cops didn’t show up.

My dad encouraged a little rough fun. He made his living in demolition and earth moving. So we were around a lot of buildings that were ground up and hauled to the dump.

We liked going with the truckers to the dump. Sometimes we would stay there and catch the next trip back to the job site so we could explore the detritus of modern life. Most of the demo trucks my dad used were end dumps. These were long trailers pulled by a semi. A hydraulic ram would tilt up one end of the trailer and all the debris tumbled down and out the 60 foot long slide. Sometimes, if the truck was parked on an unleveled spot, the trailer would fall over. Pretty exciting to see that six story trailer lean, waver, and then crash to the ground. The look on the driver was always memorable and we got to learn new words as well.

Our favorite load to watch dump was concrete slabs. The big pieces of concrete would slide down, striking the sides of the trailer making the top sway as much as six feet from side to side. It was cool. The best view was from the front/top. We lay on our bellies and "ooohed" and "aaaahed" high above the shifting debris. The idea of the trailer tipping over gave the experience the element of risk, making it a real adventure.

Sometimes we snuck into the load headed to the dump without the trucker knowing it. That was fun. Standing atop of the debris, arms wide, wind in hair, flying down a freeway. (I'm the king of the world!) Once a driver was ticked off enough to pull over and chew us out. He didn't like the cool clanging sound dirt clods make when they hit the signs we were passing.

Once my dad had told us three brothers to make sure no one was in the six story hotel that was being demolished. It was a little after 6:00 a.m. and the start up time was 7:00. So we explored that old hotel on Skid Row in L. A. Mike found a set of false teeth, and David a fake leg (with the straps and everything!).

We were up on the fourth floor, horsing around. We ran from room to room, knocking holes in walls, stuff like that. I was removing the vials of mercury from old light switches to add to my collection. We opened a door and was just entering a room when it disappeared.

One moment there was an old room with a smelly rug on the floor and a dresser, and the next there was dust, blue sky, and a wrecking ball swinging away, dragging bits of walls and floors with it. Old Red had started the job a little early.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. . .” We went screaming down the stairs, laughing and jumping three or four steps at a time. Lots of fun.

One of our favorite games was “Riding the Roof." Dad would move around a two or three story building with the loader, breaking the walls with the machine, leaving just the interior walls to support the structure. Then he would drop the bucket to the ground and we all jumped in. Up we’d go to the edge of the roof and scramble out onto the shingles. We’d race to the top and give him a thumb’s up.

He’d hit the eaves with the loader and snap the interior walls in one blow. We braced ourselves as the roof jerked and crushed everything underneath. It would settle down the twenty or thirty feet with a grinding, crushing growl as dust and debris squirted out the edges all around us. We’d yell and jump and laugh. Especially if a board or something suddenly speared through the roofing.

Good times. Kids today just don’t know what they are missing.