Riding a Bike: I don't really know why not having ridden a bike (or owned one, I guess) is considered more deprived than not having ridden or used a skateboard, rollerblades, a scooter, or a pogo stick. I suppose bike-riding can pull the "I've been around for nearly two hundred years" card, but that's really no excuse. They all fall under the "alternative modes of transportation that border on unnecessary and do not require the aquisition of a license to operate one" column heading. I say we rise up and start badgering people about rollerblades and pogo sticks as well. It's only fair. So you missed out on a parental unit pushing you on your two-wheeler until you could ride all by yourself without training wheels like some happy Hollywood family. Boo frickin' hoo. I'm sure they bought you ice cream at some point. That's just as effective with a lot less screaming. I rode a bike recreationally for many years in my late single digits to early double digits and the only thing I gained is a few pairs of torn jeans, probably a hundred dollars in bandages, and countless scars. Bikes are not for the uncoordinated.
Trauma Level: One hour. You can tell the therapist that you didn't really need one and aren't bothered by it, then still have time to talk about how you were always picked last in gym class (like that system ever really existed).
Playing Video Games: This is probably more relevant to today's preteens than to my generation, but I find it still applies. I still get weird looks when I say I've never heard of, let alone played, Starcraft (whatever the hell that is). The only thing I ever really played as a child was Duck Hunt and Super Mario Bros. at my grandpa's house when I was 6 on the original NES (like I know what that is...). Seeing as how I was one of the youngest of like... 15 cousins, I never really got to play much. So my experience with video games is watching my cousins shout at a dog that made fun of their obscenely poor water-foul slaughtering skills. However, we have to take into account that some video games are quite violent and, perhaps, people that never really played them as a child are better because of it. I mean, Mario jumps angrily on fungi and spits fireballs at unsuspecting turtle creatures. I know he's Italian and all but... it's unnecessary.
Trauma Level: Two hours to talk about how you never got a turn at the console and now you have self-esteem and assertiveness issues, and one hour to use one of those therapeutic punching bags to let off some steam.
"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the idiot holding the gun like a bouquet of flowers."
Flying a Kite: Unless you're Mary Poppins, chances are you have precious little kite-flying experience. In today's world, the kite is a "toy" that has suffered serious neglect. When I was a kid, I flew a kite. Not often but, let's be honest, once a year is enough to satisfy that little slice of the "stuff to do in the summer to get out of the house" pie chart. Even when I was a kid, not many people did it; and yet, people are scrutinized for never having done it. It's not fair, really. It's like judging people for not having seen Gone With The Wind, when really... Who has?
Trauma Level: None, just go watch Mary Poppins. You'll see what you haven't been missing.
Playing Monopoly: If you haven't done this, what's wrong with you? I think this one is the one I need to back 100%. Not only do you learn how to play nicely with friends; you learn basic strategy, real estate procedures, and money-management and business skills. Not to mention that you get to be a tiny part of a franchise that has been around for a century and has versions based on every decade, every species of animal, and every television series in existence. If you haven't played Monopoly, go play it now. I'll wait.
Trauma Level: Eight hours; one hour to talk about those nightmares you've been having about being molested by Uncle Pennybags for never having played the game, and seven hours to play one game with your therapist. At a leisurely pace of course, we don't want any cases of PTSD.
Sending children to jail since 1936.
Having Seen the Entire Disney Animated Feature Collection: I am guilty of judging people based on their lack of connoisseurship when it comes to the classic Disney animated features. Unless you didn't own a VCR, I just don't think there is an excuse for not having seen The Lion King, Aladdin, or Beauty and the Beast. I really don't. Sorry. What a sad existence you must lead. Not quite getting any James Earl Jones/Mufasa references, not enjoying Angela Lansbury as much as you should, and not experiencing that tingly feeling in high school when you've read the first half of your translated copy of Hamlet and you clue in.
Trauma Level: Seventy hours. Yes, seventy. That is how long it will take you to watch the entire Disney animated feature collection. Not counting Pixar. It's the only cure.
Having a Pet Goldfish: I understand why parents buy their children low-maintenance pets. It's so they can experience and understand what death is before a major human death has a chance to affect them. How depressing. Seriously though, a goldfish is the worst template for death a parent could use. My goldfish (and I had several) lasted, on average, about a week and a half. Goldfish are easier to kill than WWI fighter pilots. I'm sure a good number of children think that by adjusting the thermostat by one degree or by tapping on the door to grandma's bedroom, it will send her to McNally & Sons funeral home faster than you can say Teletubbies.
Trauma Level: None. Thanks to not having a pet goldfish, you dealt with death like a well-adjusted child; not knowing quite what was going on until a few years later and then thought "I probably should have been sadder".
Camping: Who doesn't love a crackling fire, roasting marshmallows, playing a harmonica, hiking through the woods, stringing up your food in a tree at night to avoid bear attacks, mosquito repellant, using outhouses in the middle of the night, minus thirty degree temperatures, and the smell of weed from the next campsite? It is truly a coming-of-age experience. I camped for many, many years. Raised on it, I was. Even with all of it's drawbacks, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I do understand, though, that not every family is as outdoorsy as mine and it's a shame. Nowadays, there are ways to take video games into the wilderness, so there's really no excuse not to. The bears are waiting.
Trauma Level: One night in your backyard with a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a book, and some snacks. It's not the same, but it'll do.
It's OK, I'm sure with the appropriate amount of therapy as prescribed by me, you'll be just fine. Or at least slightly less damaged than you have been. No promises though.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Skin and Other Stories by Roald Dahl
It was 1972 when the very first “Home” video game system came out. The Odyssey game system distributed through Magnavox. The game was “Pong” or (goalie against goalie) “hockey” played on our B&W television set with remote control on, off, and volume. (still had to make the trip to change channels) I was fifteen years of age, and we were cause of envy on the block.
ReplyDeleteWas a different time being raised in the sixties, back when bicycling and kite flying were quite common place activities, cause Damn!!! What else was there to do?? Go fly a kite?? … OK!! I think I will.
Comically, Brother Russ, now at the seasoned age of 56, still hates, and will not eat his veggies. When asked, he will without hesitation proclaim it to be Mother’s fault. All they force feedings while stayed at the table til every last pea, bean, kernel ’a corn, or whatever was down the gullet. We all three had our turns at this “rounded diet” like it or not brutality, but Russ being the most belligerent took more than his share.
Trauma Level: *hmmmm … * I wouldn’t want to guess. Like I say, t’was a different age. The term “Child Abuse” hadn’t been invented yet. *grins … *