I remember when kids at camp used to torture innocent creatures. We would be all dressed up for chapel and these kids would find it cool to see what would happen if you took a frog and cut off his legs. How utterly cruel! Maybe those kids grew up to be surgeons or something. I was always amazed at how much kids could get away with at camp.
I didn't live in the city growing up. I grew up on an acreage 20 miles south east of Prince Albert. When I was quite young my brother and I would play all day and then be in bed at around 8:00. Wide awake I would listen to every cricket singing like a very poorly rehearsed church choir without any sense of musical tone. Even though I wasn't tired I guess they would eventually put me to sleep!
I remember when I was about 11 or so after supper we would get out the softball and a bat. My brother and I would go outfield while Dad would crack out pop flies. The idea was to get 10 catches in a row. We would get treats after.
I was always a dreamer. And I was deeply intrigued with Medieval times after seeing the Disney remake "A Kid in King Arthur's Court". I ran this imaginary story in my mind where I would be walking toward the pasture and all of a sudden I would be back in in the 1600's approaching a majestic castle. Sometimes I would dream that very scenario but it always seemed to end where I was thrown into a dungeon or was soon to be executed.
As I got older I started to take being a Christian a lot more seriously. When I was 14 or so I started having these dreams where I waged war with a sword and searched my mind on every scripture verse I had learned to battle these demonic beings that just seemed to appear. My sensitivity to spiritual activity had started.
When I was 16 the funnest activity in the world became playing guitar. I would go out and buy every guitar magazine I could find that inspired me. I knew that crossed a line. Dad hated hard rock and unless there's been a brain transplant done in the last 17 years- probably still does. No Kutless CD for Christmas Dad! I guess you'll have to settle for Chuck Swindall. (lol)
On the adventuresome side Dad bought my brother and I a go-cart. It was unique. A guy in the Prince Albert Pen made it. A bobcat-operator owed money for a sign job my Dad had done for him ( My Dad was and is a Sign Painter/Sign Maker) The operator and my Dad agreed to digging out a dirt path. It was more like a series of roads that weaved and winded all throughout the trees and bushes that marked the boundaries of our acreage. They are still their today. When I go out to see my parents on Thanksgiving I sometimes go for a walk down them. Popular trees on either side and layers of leaves crackling with every step. Anyways, I digress. Back to the go-cart story. Even though there was only room for 1 person comfortably we pushed the envelope and tried to ride with 2 or 3 adventure freaks. I remember we used to crash it a lot. It didn't have the best brakes. Those machines get shaken up bad even when your riding safe and normal. Countless times we had to tighten the screws on the carburetor and readjust the throttle but it was still fun.
Ya know for someone who claims he's not into journaling there sure was a lot of writing done for my debut. Not to mention quite the trip down memory lane.
God bless.
No comments:
Post a Comment