I was 8 in Mission Viejo, CA. Those days consisted of exploring, to every extent of the word. The biggest example was exploring down the creek. We found wonders in mud and pieces of trees that had fallen and broken into branches and driftwood.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Early Years.”
We’d get into trouble with our mother who many times had to hose us off before we went into the house. We trudged through sludge looking for some hidden cave or passageway we could discover and call our own. We were peaceful kids, never fighting down the creek. There were a couple incidents however I do recall where slightly older kids got into some semi-violent stuff. Some boys who lived on another street had tied up a frog by it’s hind leg and shot it repeatedly with a bee bee gun. Even after it was dead, boys took turns aiming and pelting. We weren’t there but ;ater heard the story and every kid who heard it could verify it by visiting the scene. I was repulsed by this, the same way I cringed when kids would set off firecrackers.
Another group of kids were struggling once, or so I heard, to pull up a metal grate. It must have weighed 100 pounds. The story went that these kids pulled it up and a particularly thrill-seeking type kid went down the underground ladder. They accidentally dropped it on his leg and there was a lot of blood. Days later we would travel to that grate that the police and the paramedics replaced and see the stains that we thought were surely blood. I swear I saw a piece of leg meat. I remember thinking how mean those kids were. We walked back home that day picking up surveying stakes pretending they were daggers. Construction tape and ties were always being laid for new suburban homes. It was a lot like ET if you’ve seen that movie and remember what it looked like.
