Posted on 06/17/2015 4:35:26 AM PDT by HomerBohn
When I was in 7th grade, in social studies class we studied Mexico. One thing that fired my imagination was the Popocatépetl volcano near Mexico City.
I chose to make a model of that volcano for my class project. I used an old board for the base, and made the volcano out of clay. It was about 6 inches high, with a crater at the top.
About this time, I had discovered that if you ground up a sparkler and lit the powder, it produced an impressive flare. So, I brought this volcano to school with a little vial of ground up sparkler and a little candle to light it off.
The day of the demonstration, the principal was standing at the back of the room observing. It was a impressive display, and I got an easy A on the project.
But the weird thing was that not long after this happened, there was a fire in the school, and the only room that was involved was the one where my demonstration took place.
I know for a fact that I wasn’t the cause (I’m pretty sure I know who was), but I know my name was mentioned in the investigation.
I think I lucked out.
Shooting Ball Bearings using my Wrist Rocket (Slingshot).
At Eight Years Old, I had a .22 Bolt Action Rifle and a Single Shot .410 Shotgun. Kept them in my closet along with the Ammunition.
I imagine Obama’s Jack Booted Thugs would be bashing down the Door if that was today. My Parents would have been in Handcuffs and my Brother and I would probably be placed in a Gay or Lesbian Foster Household and made to eat Chobani Yogurt and Bank at Wells Fargo.
I had a battery powered Toy M1 Carbine, a German Lugar Cap Gun (all metal)and a battery operated Tripod Mounted Machine Gun. All three looked pretty real from 10 Feet away. When we played Army, we really played Army.
I was in charge of the Armory.
My Dad even gave me a Practice Hand Grenade he had when he came home from WWII. It was Blue, hollow and had a Pin that you could pull like you were going to kill some Japs or Krauts. Come to think of it, the Grenade may have come from an Uncle that served in Korea.
My memory is shot. Getting old...
Unfortunately, I have no idea where all that stuff went, just like my 60’s era Fender Electric Guitar and my two Fender Amps. Probably gave everything away when I moved on.
Good one!
I’m way ahead of your time, but I remember when I was ten years old my pals and I would take a cast iron skillet, some potatoes and ‘lard’ and head for the woods we called Turkey Run.
We’d camp out, slice up those potatoes and melt that lard over a fire we built. We’d feast on the potatoes, smoke corn silk cigarettes and tell tall stories and lies until we’d finally go to sleep.
This was in 1946 when I was ten years old. Our parents didn’t worry about us as Gore hadn’t invented the internet yet that today excites the pedophiles into action.
*lol* I fell out of our family car once too, it was a pink Rambler, we all loved that car! I got a bit scraped up but was otherwise fine, climbed back in and went to the laundromat with mom & some lady there sprayed Bactine or something on the scrapes which hurt worse than the initial falling out part. *sigh*
My worst filthy experience was falling into an outdoor privy when I was five years old.
Couldn’t get the dog to play with me for days.
And REALLY shiny!
My Brothers and I along with other neighbor boys played on the wrecked B-17s at Nuta’s Boatyard on the Miami River, 1943-46.
Just west of 17 Ave and NW N River Drive.
Also rode the wake, In a row boat, of PT Boats, going out the river in the early morning. The the long hard rowing to get back to Nuta’s.
Monkey bars and asphalt/gravel/dirt playgrounds
Bring your .22 rifle to school,on the bus for Rifle Club
practice.And that’s in Mass.Oh,how times have changed.
There are more advanced medical procedures now.
The three channels of TV going off at midnight was a good thing.
How about?:
- bottle rocket fights
- lawn Jarts with no adult supervision (nobody died or got hurt)
- climbing the exterior of 2 story rear porches
- Jumping from garage roof to garage roof (Chicago)
I was bit by a dog, took the bus to the hospital with my little sister who I was babysitting, got stitched up and went home by bus all before my folks got home from work.
Yes to all 3. We also climbed up the outside of the El platform just for the fun of it. Remember when you could on a hot day open the door of the car and sit on the pad in front or back with the breeze blowing on you?
How about skitching?
I’ll take all the improvements and liberty, please.
Ditto.
Really? You played in salt dumps?
Skitching was a blast. We had guys in our neighborhood that would pull us along on purpose.
I meant slag dumps. Was on 100th street?
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