THE LOST BOYS © Mike Lee Their lives were oh so simple then, back before all we have today. It was the nineteen-twenties, nineteen-thirties, before television, cell phones or computers ran our lives. Back then there was no central heat, no air conditioning and no refrigerators; nothing that we take for granted. The family of my then-best friend – John Tollan – had a telephone known as a ‘party-line’ where they got all their news by listening-in on conversations. There was no microwave, so mothers spent most days behind the stove preparing meals. Being a house wife then was full time work. The only treat was going to the movies on the weekend, for the cost of one thin dime. The kids would see the matinee and stay to watch the second showing. Summers were the best of times. The boys, barefooted, took their fishing poles of bamboo and a can of worms, and headed to the woods or a close pond nearby. They’d take a stick or maybe pick up rocks and threw them, or occasionally one had a baseball that they’d throw and catch. Blue jeans with cuffs rolled up we all they wore; it being hot they all went shirtless. There were no i-pads, no devices; all those things were “science fiction” in those days. They’d head off down some dirt road with their dogs in tow, to spend the day “adventuring” and they would have fun at it. They’d pass Mr. Fletcher’s grocery store where they would swipe an apple, which he saw but didn’t mind because – he said – “I used to be a kid myself.” They were the boys of this small town everyone knew and liked. They did not get in trouble, were polite and would say “yes, ma’am, no ma’am.” They were courteous and could be trusted, unlike today’s youth. They were the boys who, in their teens in ’42, were shocked because of war – world war – and wanted to participate. They volunteered, signed-up, and joined the army; were shipped-out to fight the Germans, Japanese, and some died over there – did not come home – and those who did would not speak of it. They had changed, were not the same young men, when finally all was over. Those sweet boys – our town’s boys – who came back were broken men. They’d been to war and looked death in the face and it had changed them. They would never be the same again. I was one of those summer boys who went away and came back home, and I had changed. In fact, it all had changed. The things I loved were gone; the things I did I couldn’t – didn’t want to – and would never do again. I was one of that generation of young boys – the lost boys – who became a generation of lost men.
Posted on: Tue, 20 Jan 2015 03:13:27 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015