Imagine a world where boys get their very own fishing pole at about six and a .22 rifle at about ten. Imagine taking your quarter allowance and going down to the local market to purchase a cup of night crawlers, two Baby Ruths and two Nehis and going to the stock pond with your one and only best friend to fish. You’ll be gone literally all day. Your parents are not worried about you because you were safe in those days. Whether or not you catch any fish is irrelavent. When you get tired of fishing, there’s skipping rocks, climbing trees, swimming, catching snakes or any number of “boy” things to do that are infinitely fascinating. When you get home after dark, you realize you are famished and mom has something ready for you to eat. Then it’s bath, bed and do it again tomorrow for three whole luxurious months of summer!
Just thinking about what my own son will never have is enough to make me cry.
