It was 1966, and I was in third grade. My best friend, David, lived next door, and we played together every day. My friends and I ran around the backyards in our neighborhood, playing army and jumping back and forth over the small stream that flowed through the area. We shot each other with our toy guns and sticks that we found in the nearby woods.
Ah , the world of little boys! How do they know they have "missed" with a toy gun? Was it the first person to "call it" who gets to decide whether it was a hit or miss? Such a mystery to a mom. I can just see those Koolaid red mustaches, hear the voice of mother calling, smell those sweet, damp, sweaty little boys. Sad that little boys are mostly sitting staring at a screen these days. They don't know what they are missing. Thanks for the memories you gave me with this evocative writing.
Play Army
Scott, this is such a great read - I can't wait for more! :D
Ah , the world of little boys! How do they know they have "missed" with a toy gun? Was it the first person to "call it" who gets to decide whether it was a hit or miss? Such a mystery to a mom. I can just see those Koolaid red mustaches, hear the voice of mother calling, smell those sweet, damp, sweaty little boys. Sad that little boys are mostly sitting staring at a screen these days. They don't know what they are missing. Thanks for the memories you gave me with this evocative writing.