10/04/2024
Mamas Then.
When I was a boy me and my friends would come home from school, put on our old holey jeans, "our play clothes". As fast as we could, we'd head out to the woods behind our house.
Our school clothes would be the newer jeans and I’m sure mama got a good deal on em at the Sears Husky Shop. But even so, the idea was to keep hole free for as long as you could.
Every now and then we’d sneak out the door rushed with excitement for the days round of football and G.I. Joe games and forget to put on our “play jeans”.
When we did, of course that would be the day we ripped a hole in the knee on the first G.I. Joe maneuver sliding for cover on the hard Georgia clay.
Mama, then…. would teach us a little lesson about taking care of things. Mama even ruled the day over G.I. Joe.
We were 10 or 11 and we could literally roam the sparsely populated neighborhood til dark or dinner time, whichever came first. No cell phones, no pagers or iPods to check in with. Just a word from mama to be home at 6. Or else.
If you did come in late or didn’t come when you were called, Mama then would teach us another little lesson about being on time.
And did we play. Cowboys and Indians. Army .Battleship. All those so called aggressive games boys liked to play. Of course our guns were made of pine branches and hand grenades from old red dirt clods.
No video games, no realistic wireless guns and no on screen graphics showing peoples heads exploding with graphic splats. We left that to our imagination and our perspectives were a far cry from reality. It's hard to cross the line to reality with a pistol made from a pine branch.
If we started talking too much trash or getting a little rough, Mama would step in and teach us a little lesson about being kind.
Like most boys do, at some point around the 6th grade we figured out we were real men. At 12 we started doing a little back-talking. Learn to say some really foul language like durn, butt and bull hockey. Oh don’t forget “shut up”.
We’d try out our new manhood mostly at school by sassing the teacher and we’d get in trouble. A little sassing mean writing 200 times with a number two pencil, "I won’t say butt in class anymore".
If you were a repeat offender you’d get a paddling and note sent home from the teacher. Mama then, would applaud the teacher’s punishment and render some additional lessons which usually included instructions on how to apologize to the teacher.
Back then, mama’s had a super powered network with the other mamas too. You soon learned it mattered not where you were, there was a mama watching and had been granted universal license to kick your f***y just like your own mama.
And of course mama also had a hot line she could call in daddy for some additional teachings should the need arise.
She might say you better pray I don’t call your daddy. And yes mama then, taught us a thing or too about praying to God in tough times.
Mamas and daddy’s then, taught us some simple things. Some boundaries. How to take care of stuff. How to be on time. How to be kind. How to apologize. How to pray.
And they watched over the little things and made sure we didn’t get out of line. Gave us a foundation to build on so we’d know better than to mess up the big things.
We didn’t always do right, but mamas then forgave us, reinforced the lessons… as many times as we needed it.
Today some mamas and daddy’s still do it like mamas did then.
I’m grateful for that. I’m in my 60’s but I’m my mama's lessons from the days back when are forever imprinted on my brain.
I'm grateful.
Seems like the world could use a little more old school mamas and daddys in it these days.
As a matter of fact, we'd probably go a long ways to send some old school parents up yonder to run that White House.
Have a great day and thank ya mama and daddy if ya can.
