Youth and change

Back when I was little, so it's been a few days ago, I did some really silly things. Dumb if you want the truth. Back in Nebraska there was this weed that grew about 3.5 feet high and had kind of seeds that developed at the top of the stem. There were a lot of these dark brown seeds. The plant looked a lot like milo, but the seeds were finer almost like beet seed.

Well one day back then I got to thinking, which was and is dangerous, that those seeds looked a lot like tobacco. I wonder if I could roll them into a smoke, like Dad did his, and smoke them. So I got some of Dad's papers that he rolled tobacco in, gathered some seed and tried it. The seed rolled good, and my smoke looked decent, so I lit it up and took a puff. I decided that one puff would do me for the rest of my life. I didn't need two. Still don't know what the weed is. We have some of them growing down here in Missouri this year. Don't worry -- I'm not going to smoke them.

I might have told this before so forgive me if I did. My brother-in-law, Don Collins, had left an old horse trailer down south of Mom and Dad's house. It was a one-horse trailer. I got to thinking about the tires on that old horse trailer. I wondered if a .22 bullet would bounce off the tire if I fired directly at the tire. But I also wondered if the bullet would bounce back and hit me.

So one day Mom and Dad was gone and Mick must have been gone as well. I opened the front door on the house and laid down peeking around the corner just in case. Lined up my .22 and plinked the tire. Nothing seemed to happen. So I plinked a few more times on the one tire and then on the other tire. Nothing. At least the bullets weren't ricocheting back and hitting me. So I walked down the check out the results of my experiment. Two flat tires. Dumb is all I've got to say.

Back when I grew up Mick and I spent a lot of time riding horses. The ranch that was next to us was big so their summer pastures were big. I'll bet some of them had 4,000 or 5,000 acres in them. Most of the time we packed a rope on our saddles. This was before the time of nylon ropes, so ours were sisal ropes. Dad made sure that the strap we used to tie the rope on the saddle would break if we got tangled up in it and got bucked off. Dad was watching out for us.

But back then everyone watched out for us kids. This wasn't just Mick and me but all the kids up in the Sandhills where I grew up. This was what adults did. If some adult caught a kid being stupid, they did something. They might stop it or they might just pick us up and tan our butts. In a way the whole county of people was raising the kids that grew up there. It was like others watched for others.

We've lost that caring attitude or feeling. That community concern for our youth. But we have also lost the willingness to ask for help raising our kids, help from concerned good-hearted friends and neighbors. Seems like way too much "I" "I" "I" and not enough "we" or "ours." Way too many off-the-wall people and not enough plain Janes or Joes or neighbors.

Too many are asking "What's in it for me?" and not enough "How can I help?" Too many trying to figure out how to sue and not enough let's figure out how to make it better or right.

When a problem arises that concerns millions of people, the solution isn't to change the millions but to change "me" first of all and "you" change you. One at a time will work miracles.