A Happy Chilidhood

Those who suggest that it is never too late to have a happy childhood are correct. The problem for others is simply that too many are denied the support and encouragement required for an earlier start. Too many are simply using the wrong part of our brain to think with, are late bloomers, or one of the many others who have been allowed to fall into a pattern of behavior characterized by the child like need for instant gratification and the inability to deal with ambiguity. Another possibility is that we do too much thinking and not enough trying. We forget that era when happy times were a product of long days of honest effort spent in the work place in the company of good and trusted friends, and that picnics came only on weekends after more serious matters in the work place were resolved during the previous work week.

In doing so, we overlook one of life's more promising lessons, the unshakable truth that a willingness to overcome adversity with the support and help of good and trusted friends lead unfailingly to the higher levels of self-esteem, confidence and trust required for contentment, joy, and ...yeah, even better sex . This kind of failure results in a fall into a sense of isolation, and alienation followed by frustration, grief, and undeniable anger that end in a simple neurosis or a more serious psychosis. The unshakable truth is that these are the folks who denied honest company and lacking the ability to ask for help, have simply run out of courage.

If I were a better writer, one capable of presenting a more polished form of this older argument, I might have the good fortune of convincing those of you who are continuing to read that the words on this page are not presented as another ear bending lecture that all of us have heard before but, simply as a gentle scolding offered with all the humanity this author is capable of.

So go forth my friends; grab your kids bike, point it toward the highest hill on the horizon and with friends on each side pedal until the burn in the muscles turns to the cramps that invariably follow and when you get to the top of the hill, turn the dam bike around, wipe the sweat from your eyes, catch your breath and roar to the bottom; with the wind in your face and the sense of accomplishment in your bones, savor the thrill of a wild, but controlled, semi-abandon. Some have cried at the bottom of the hill, others have bawled, but at the end, all have allowed themselves the broad grins that are a product of this particular rite of passage. At the very end of this odyssey, look in the mirror and with out blinking, tell me what you see; share the bottle of wine this kind of undertaking deserves with a good friend, but save a sip for me my fellow comrades; this is only the beginning.