Sometimes when I am telling of things I did as a boy, like helping my Dad build farm fences, or using the two-man cross-cut saw, or driving the tractor, I'm realizing that many parents today do not allow their children to do those things until they are older. Many, and maybe most of the things we commonly did on the farm had some danger to them. We boys in our family may have started with tasks that carried some risk at an earlier age than others. But I always felt we were very safety conscious; and when my Dad was showing us how to handle tools, or how to work, he was always showing us how to work safely. Part of learning the job was to learn the risks and how to handle the job without being careless.
One of the general things my Dad taught was that very little good can ever come of "showing out." "Showing out" was an expression for showing off, or grandstanding, or acting on a dare just to show that "we ain't skeered of nothin.'" One of his safety cautions was that "if you get reckless, you're probably gonna hurt yourself or somebody else!"
Sometimes we had to learn that by experience. There was a tree near the creek bank by our barn that I called my climbing tree. It was a tall sycamore tree whose branches had many forks that I could use in making bean flips. A bean flip was a forked stick with stretchy rubber strips on the two upper points. You shot things with it by placing them mid-way on the stretchy strips, pulling back on it, aiming and letting go. I don't know why we called them bean flips. We never shot beans with them; we always shot small rocks. But I guess we could have shot beans if we had had spare beans. Usually we ate our beans. One day I was climbing in my climbing tree, and I am not sure how it happened, but I went tumbling. I remember hitting the rocky creek bank below and sliding down on my back end. That was very uncomfortable. I guess I was fortunate to have landed on a slope and not on flat ground. Nothing was broken, and I learned to be more careful with my climbing. Another time I was getting ready to make a new bean flip, so I reached up and hooked my ax on a branch above me and started climbing the tree. Somehow I knocked my ax loose and it came down on me, making a deep slice in my ring finger. I still have the scar under my wedding ring. One learns by experience as well as by being told and warned.
I have come to think there are some stunts that don't need doing. There are some mountains that don't need climbing. There are some rivers that don't need to be jumped on a motorcycle. There are some waterfalls that don't need a man going over in a barrell. We enjoyed learning to drive the tractor, and later to be helped by that skill in learning to drive a car, but we learned early on that there are some things not to do on the tractor. There are inclines not to go up because the tractor will probably rear up and fall back on us. There are steep hillsides not to mow because the tractor would likely tip over and roll over us. We were pretty sure we wanted to stay on top of the tractor, and not to have the tractor on top of us.
Sometimes, though, looking at today's ways, I wonder if we are so focused on making everything safe that we don't teach our kids how to handle things safely. We do away with merry-go-rounds, slides, teeter-totters and sometimes those dangerous swings on playgrounds, so as not to chance someone getting hurt. Our generation didn't try so much to put cushions everywhere so we wouldn't get hurt when we wrecked our bikes. We skinned up our knees when we fell down while running full tilt; we cut our fingers a few times while learning to handle a sharp knife safely; we broke an arm sometimes falling out of climbing trees. But I'm not sure we would have grown up better and wiser if our Moms had never let us climb a tree, or carve a stick or cut a forked stick to make a bean flip.
Sometimes I think we need to be more aware of the dangers in even common things. Being aware of dangers inspires us to be careful and to learn to handle the risky but necessary tasks we need to do. One can break his head walking down the steps carelessly. An old cow can kick or butt. You have to use care and learn to handle the cows wisely and confidently. An old rooster can spur you. You have to keep an eye on him. But we don't need to live with a constant fear of everything. We need to learn to dive in the pool, how to climb over or through a barbed wire fence, and how to fish without snagging ourselves. We need to learn to catch a ball without getting hit in the face, and how to catch a basketball without stubbing the fingers. If we tried to stay absolutely risk-free, we probably wouldn't ever try anything worth while.
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Editor's note: Jerry Nichols, a native of Pea Ridge, is an award-winning columnist, a retired Methodist minister with a passion for history. He is vice president of the Pea Ridge Historical Society. He can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected], or call 621-1621.
Editorial on 03/04/2015