Describe something crazy you did as a kid ...

[NanceGreggs]

… that you were totally convinced at the time was a perfectly sound idea.

My story:

When I was a six-year-old living in a typical Long Island subdivision, about ten of us in the same age range decided to dig to China. Our houses were on deep lots, so we started the project in a wooded area behind a neighbour’s house, away from the prying eyes of our parents.

The idea was that if we dug a tunnel to the other side of the globe, we could use it to escape adult supervision whenever we wanted by simply climbing down, and then climbing back home before we’d be missed.

We’d planned it all perfectly. We’d find a bunch of Chinese kids our age on the other side, make friends, and hang out. They probably knew some cool places to play in their neighbourhood, just like we did in ours.

After we’d dug down about two feet, we surmised that this project might take a few days, maybe as long as a week. So cognizant of on-the-job safety (even at that tender age), we promptly stole three wooden sawhorses from a nearby road construction site, labelled “Caution: Road work ahead”, and arranged them around our China-or-bust hole, lest someone fall in by accident. Besides, this was serious business – and those sawhorses gave the entire enterprise an air of gravitas.

It only took three days of digging (we were now down a good three feet!) when the project team members started making excuses for not showing up for their shift. We quickly had to accept the truth: tunnelin’ was hard work – and it was looking like it could take weeks to get to China, and you had to ask yourself if that much time and effort was worth it.

I don’t know what prompted this memory tonight. But the thing is that I can still remember the day we started The Big Dig, and my complete confidence that we would reach China in a matter of days.

Now, tell me your story …

[PoindexterOglethorpe]

2. A bridge across a creek about a mile from where I lived.

There was a railing on either side. I'd climb up and walk the railing, which was probably at best six inches wide. If I fell into the creek, about 20 feet below, I'd have been seriously injured. I never fell, but probably some of the people who drove by and saw me balanced on the railing had heart attacks.

I was about nine, maybe ten years old when I was doing that. I was something of a tomboy and daredevil at that age.

[applegrove]

3. My brother and cousin climbed the mountain behind the cottage when they were 7 and 8 or so.

At the top, on the mountain bluff, was a cross, made out of two pieces of wood, standing and looking down on a glorious lake and mountains. Nobody had been at the top before. It was a mystic discouvery. They immediately got down on their knees and prayed. We are not particularly religious. We climbed that mountain many times since then. My cousins still do.

[PoindexterOglethorpe]

4. How fascinating.

I guess you had no idea who actually made the cross.

[applegrove]

5. It was in the Gatineau Hills of Quebec. The top of the mountain is a bluff

Last edited Thu Jul 30, 2020, 05:39 AM - Edit history (1)

which is quite prominant. I think it was an order of Catholic monks who put it up. They were early cottagers on the lake i think. But we did not know at the time. Remember Quebec was very Catholic till the 1960s. I think the cross probably went up sometime then. There wasn't even a road or cottages to that part of the lake till the end of the 60s. This was in about 1972. I thought it was a cute story. Now there are a few other crosses up there put up in memory of cottagers' family member and friend who died young.

[TlalocW]

6. I guess it was more college, but at my age I consider that being a kid now

My freshman year, mom moved to a town about 30 miles south of my hometown because Grandma wanted to be closer to the farmhouse she lived in most of her life that was in a really small town about 20 miles to the west of the new town. A cousin was renting it out, but Grandma wanted to be closer to it. Anyway, since that small town to the west was my mom's hometown, she told me about a place with three bridges in a row, and like most small towns in Kansas, there are ghost stories concerning it.

Anyway, during summer break, two of my best friends came to visit me, and we decided to drive to Mom's hometown to look at the bridges because there was nothing better to do. When we got there, a cargo train (probably wheat) was going through it so we parked close by, jumped on the train, and rode it back to the town mom lived in where we jumped off. Then we walked back to mom's house, got in the car my friends drove down in, and drove back to mom's hometown to look at the bridges and then drop me off to get my car.

One of those friends, when we were in second grade did dig a about a 7 foot hole with one of his friends. I don't know if he was trying to tunnel to China though.

TlalocW

[madamesilverspurs]

7. Speaking of tunnels . . .

We grew up in a western suburb of Denver. By the time I was in kindergarten I was already well acquainted with four distinct seasons, and my favorite was winter. I loved the snow, even though getting ready to go out in it usually took longer than the time spent playing in it.

Anyway, one winter we had some dandy snow, so much that school was cancelled for a few days. Dad had to really push against the storm door to get outside with the snow shovel. Once my older brother and I got out in the yard, we found ourselves waist deep. He claimed one end of the yard, I claimed another, and we each set about the business of building forts for the requisite snowball fights. But neither of us had ever encountered snow that deep, and in the process of packing and stacking we discovered that we could crawl under the snow, and soon both forts were abandoned in favor of the new and different excavation. It was eerily pretty under there, kind of pale bluish light. And the best part was that no one could see us. We heard Mom calling for us, and we just looked at each other and grinned. We heard her go and call out the front door, then she came to the back again. About then, the little fink who lived next door jumped the fence and about landed on top of us, and the jig was up.

Mom wasn't very happy about our little 'joke', and she and Dad forbade any more tunnels. But they did help us tamp down the snow and spray it with water to make a skating rink that lasted until April. That was a really good winter.


.

[csziggy]

8. When I was a very little kid my older sisters and the neighbor boy dug a tunnel

Probably about two to three feet deep. I'm not sure why they did it - I was several years younger than any of them and not worth receiving their secrets.

Anyway, being in Florida, the sand didn't hold up too good and the "tunnel" collapsed on the boy. HUGE excitement, while everybody panicked and dug him out. He was not hurt, the adults were never told why he was so dirty with sand down his pants, and I had to swear I would never tell anyone about it.

As for myself, when I was about nine, I found a "racer" bicycle in someone's trash. The bikes my sisters had were the old heavy frame with thick wheels. This "racer" was lighter weight with really narrow wheels. It was small enough for my short legs to reach, so I kept it. It had two major problems - first, the tires were not only flat, they leaked. The neighbor boy offered to blow them up for me. As he pumped and pumped. As he did, the tube inside the tire ballooned out of a hole in the tire, big enough it was kind of scary. We agreed that flat tires would still work on our mostly dirt roads.

The second problem was that the fancy hand brakes - my sister's old style bikes had no brakes at all, you just had to back pedal and be ready to jump - didn't work. After the first time of coasting down the really, really low incline in the neighborhood and having to bail off the bike, I learned how to slow it down without a chance of breaking my neck since I couldn't brake the bike.

Dad was embarrassed that I rode that thing around, but I enjoyed it for a summer. Then my oldest sister left for college and I inherited her clunky bike. It wasn't as cool, but it was safer and more reliable. The reason I stopped riding it is a whole different story.

[soothsayer]

9. Too many to recount or even recall but here's a few:

Cymbal tag: rolling a cymbal from a drum set at each other; neighbor girl got many stitches in her leg (tag!)

Throw ski poles at each other to try the Kung Fu tv show blocking thereof;

Bicycle rodeo! We each had sticks tied at the end of strings and would toss them at each other’s bikes gaucho style to try to entangle them in the spokes and yank each other off;

The time I decided it would be fun to sleigh ride upside down and backwards down a steep hill that ended at a creek with a 6 or 7 foot bank. Luckily I rammed headfirst into a large oak tree at the bottom (hmm, this may explain a lot)

[hunter]

10. I played with fire, and later, homemade rockets and explosives.

In kindergarten I started a campfire in the sandbox using the old style wax milk cartons as fuel.

That was nothing new. I'd started stealing matches and hiding them as a toddler. My favorites were the "strike anywhere" sort.

I always followed my own safety protocols, but looking back I had some close calls.

When you have children of your own you really begin to realize how terrifying it was for your own parents to have a child like you. As a teenager and young adult I was a nightmare.

My children were not quite the pyromaniacs I was but they were very good at running off and getting lost. They tell me they never felt lost, even when they were nabbed by store security, the police, or a friendly neighbor. They were also climbers. As adults they still run and climb.

[North Shore Chicago]

11. 7 years old

I was late coming home from school, (before cell phones) when I walked in the door, my mom was frantic. You know, that look, one of frustration AND relief. She asked me why I was over an hour late? This seemed like the best answer at the moment.

"I was kidnapped!"

So what is a mother to do? She phones the police and they drive over to ask me questions.


"Describe the vehicle"
"Did they take you anywhere?"
"1 or more people who kidnapped you?"
"Tell us what they looked like"

Oh my God! My head was spinning hard, I'm telling you, I was more afraid of my mom with the truth than the police. The following is what I told the police:

"They took me in a car with 4 doors, there was a man and a woman. Wasn't sure where they took me, think it was a tavern (say what?!) but they had my hands tied behind my back and put me on the floor of the car.

They drove me all around town to see if I remembered anything, I just made up something.

Okay, here comes the best part. The local newspaper picked up my "kidnapping" and ran with it. My friend TF's mother saw the article in the paper and called my mom.

"Hello? M? I just saw where (me) was kidnapped 2 days ago, just wanted to tell you that she was with my son and they were playing football in my backyard!"

Oh Jesus! busted! They called the police to apologize and I did as well. What would they do to a 7 year old now for lying to the police? I don't even want to think about it.

Anyway, not my finest hour. To reemphasize, I was more afraid of my mom than the police!

[onethatcares]

12. my sister was sitting on top of our doghouse

and her brother had a bow and arrow and was shooting arrows at the target on the side of it. He told her to get off the doghouse because he wasn't too good with the bow and arrow and besides, he was shooting razor sharp broadhead arrows and didn't want to hit her.

She said, "No, I'll be ok"

The next arrow her brother shot hit her right in the thigh and he could actually see it vibrate when it stuck in the wood of the doghouse.

They made up a story about her falling on a piece of glass and cutting herself.

They didn't tell their mother the truth until 30 years later.

I didn't think my sister could keep a secret that long.

[Fla Dem]

13. In the 50's there was a drought in the Northeast.

Last edited Thu Jul 30, 2020, 09:02 PM - Edit history (1)

I grew up in the suburbs of Boston, in a good size town that had 2 lakes. One was used as our municipal water supply. Between the drought and water usage, the water level in Crystal Lake dropped considerably. There were 2 islands in the lake and once the water level dropped the islands were no longer surrounded by water. It became something of a dare to walk out to the islands via the mud flats.

One day, after being told repeatedly by mother not to do it, 3 of my friends and I decided to give it a try. They said that so many people had done it, there was actually a solid path from the shore to one of the islands. This particular day I must have been to Brownie day camp in the morning, as I was wearing my brown shorts and brown and white striped jersey. That in itself was pretty special. While an average middle class family, the Scout outfit was outside the normal family budget.

When we got there, there were a lot of kids. There was a path in the mud that had been packed down by people walking on it, but it was narrow. So the four of us started out single file to the island on the path. I don't know what happened, whether I slipped or made a mis-step, but before I knew it I was almost up to my hips in mud. It took a couple of older guys to pull me out of the muck, but by then I was covered in mud.

I was sooo scared to go home. There was no way to clean the mud and muck off. I knew my Mom would be furious, and she was. I don't remember the punishment, except she threw away my Brownie outfit and said I wasn't going to get another one.

That memory is as clear as day, many, many years later.