I was speaking with my neighbour yesterday. He’s a little older than me and I love his stories. He grew up during the war, and told me a few stories yesterday that blew me away. You see, when I was a kid, I did all kinds of things that would get me in trouble, you know, the normal stuff. Playing around in construction zones, and that sort of thing. I grew up with not much difficulty, and managed to actually not get caught for the “bad” things I did. I’m talking about boy stuff now, like Nicky Nicky Nine Doors, or making ninja stars out of scrap sheet metal in grade 7 shop class… (Sorry Mr Wells :)
So get this. My neighbour, growing up in the wartime, had unlimited access to grenades. I asked him how many, he said “boxes”. He was 13. You know what he did with them? He went fishing. Thats right. Hopped in a boat on a lake, pulled those grenade pins, let fly into the water, and BOOM! He said 4 or 6 fish would always pop up to the surface. AWESOME!! Man, if I only had grenades when I was a kid!
Meanwhile, my 2 year old is splashing in a puddle and loving life, and you know what a normal parent reaction to that would be right? “Hey! Stop getting wet and dirty!” Nah… let em get wet and play in the mud. Dirt washes away, memories, and good character lasts forever.