Posted on 12/18/2001 8:08:28 AM PST by Sir Gawain
Retail reports say that this season's hot toys are various versions of GI Joe, along with assorted lethal accessories like machine guns and M-16s. The reason, of course, is the war in Afghanistan and the heroics of the Marines, carrier crews and special operations troops.
Various feminist, education and feel-good groups who regard small males as aberrations in need of correction - "We share, we don't shoot" - are horrified but have no choice but to keep quiet. The public mood is pro-military.
Long after V-E and V-J days, World War II continued to be fought among the ravines and row houses of my Pittsburgh neighborhood. On Saturdays, kids were thrown out of the house immediately after breakfast and told not to come back until lunch. After a swift lunch, the kids were shoved back out the door and told not to come home until dinner.
Nobody worried if our play was creative or expressive or multicultural. That's what kids did. Go outside and play. Until we were old enough to play touch football and baseball, we played "guns." That's what it was called, just "guns." If this worried our parents, none of them ever said so. What would have horrified them was the idea of our staying inside on a nice day - "a little rain's not going to kill you" - and watching TV.
Sometimes the German and Japanese soldiers were imaginary; sometimes we took turns being the bad guys, but it was understood that the villains' role was to be temporary.
Sometimes we didn't even bother with a historical justification to shoot at one another. We divided into two teams. One side went off and hid in ambush while the other came looking for them. The local adults were unfazed by a wooden machine gun poking out from under the forsythia or an urchin stealthily inching along the garage wall with two guns drawn.
The actual shooting was a couple of explosive sounds, our lame attempts to imitate gunfire, followed by, "You're dead!" If that happened today, the poor child would be whisked off to a lifetime of therapy. Back then, the intended victim was expected to clutch his chest and keel over in dramatic fashion. The victim could appeal the call and, if the complaint was deemed reasonable, allowed back in the game with "just a flesh wound." We had no idea what a flesh wound was.
Any pile of rocks and old lumber or even a careful arrangement of trash cans became a "fort." We built more forts than the French kings, and even today, thanks to a keen eye for terrain developed as a 7-year-old, I sometimes observe to myself, "That would make a great place for a fort."
It made for an exhausting day, but even at the end of it, the grimy little warriors were reluctant to disperse for dinner until the mandatory command for surrender, "If you don't get in here right this second. . ."
On Christmas morning, I hope the little boys - and little girls, if they're so inclined - take their GI Joes and war toys outside and spend the day playing "Capture the Taliban." It will be more fun than a video game. Besides, a little rain won't kill you, but youthful inactivity may. *
Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service.
My mom may be liberal on many issues, but thank G-d that she wasn't a feminist who prevented me from playing soldier.
I even had a small "factory" where I would cut out some crude M-16 looking things traced out on a piece of wood, and paint it black. I could make a few per day and then we'd go out and use them. ..
I never grew up into a gun fanatic, never have owned a real firearm... never wanted to take a gun into battle and kill innocent people or anything. As far as I know, none of my friends from the day did either...
It's time to kick it to the curb, for good.
Some things never change....
My 11 year old daughter :)
Yeah, but how long is it until the Socialists stormtroop into town and tell the parents that they are permanently damaging their kid's psyche? How long until the "For the Good of Society", or the "For the Children" communistas come out of the woodwork with threats and ridiculous lawsuits to ban these type of toys? How long until the PC tyrannists try to muzzle these kids' type of fun? How long before the Million Nazi Moms rally against this type of innocent play?
How long?
Held up to the shoulder, it was a rifle. Under the arm, it was a submachine gun. Held over the shoulder, it was a bazooka ...
And you had to remember that the little end of the bat was the muzzle ... otherwise, you were shooting backwards.
When I grew up, I had the distinct privilege of carrying the M-60 machinegun for two years as a 5'6", 125 lb, airmobile/mech infantryman.
Now that was SOME kind of fun!
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