Nov. 03, 2005 - 18:05 MST

MISTS OF MEMORY

How often in my young imaginative activities did play time start with someone saying, "Let's Pretend."

Be it out door, indoor and sometimes both, we clad ourselves (often just mentally) in cop gear, cowboy chaps, pirate cutlass and eye patch with a ghostly parrot on our shoulders. At times of peace with the girls we would be husbands (somewhat reluctantly) but eventually play nice and enjoy the imitation of life.

Once on a cold winter day during Christmas time one of the girls said, "Let's Pretend," this is school and I am the teacher," that was the ideal opportunity for us boys to act out what we would like to have done in real school. A perfect opportunity to be obstreperous and ornery and the ability to get away with it. Of course, when teacher would send us to the principal's office (we were a group of course) off we'd go into the wild blue and into another "Let's Pretend," activity. I'm not sure how many "Let's Pretend," moments were in any of my days, guess it depended on our mass imagination.

Privately my "Let's Pretend," life was always in motion.. I don't know about other folk, but for me I lived and bled, sweat and shivered in fear in every story I read, surreptitiously a bit wet cheeked now and then.

I remember once at my cousin's I was deep in a hairy story and one of my girl cousins sneaking up on me and tearing a piece of paper close to my ear. I don't remember the story but it was full of battle and noise, but, that was much too close to being real for me. At middle age perhaps a victim of a heart attack ? As it was then, startled to the max would cover it.

'Twas the same way with movies for me. I saw Captains Courageous, thrilled and cried in the appropriate places. Looking around as I swiped tears from my cheeks, I would see here and there other boys doing the same.

Ahh but those were the days of magic childhood, a time when a good part of my summer was spent across the street in the spreading branches of a maple tree, launching imaginary expeditions from there or viciously repelling invaders. Sometimes I would climb as high as I dared and just be alone up there, seeing as far as I could see and pretending to float with the clouds and fly with the birds.

Would that I could go back through those days lost in the MISTS OF MEMORY . . . . . . . . . .

Blog