Child Abuse.
I was thinking about the post by Freddie, linked below, and about Child Abuse.I have to admit, in hindsight/retrospect, my parents seriously abused my kid sister.
Instead of insisting she go to specific schools, they let her go to the schools she chose. When she graduated high school, she went to school to be a hairdresser, for which mom and dad paid. She drove mom’s car, or sometimes dad’s truck. Prom dresses, school supplies, gas, all pretty much covered. When she got married, dad took out his wallet and spent till it hurt.
On the other hand, I went to the seminary for six years. At times- OK, most of the time, I felt really stupid, because I was nearly a year behind everyone else. It sucked. But I stayed, rather than going to the local public school, where I could breeze through with honors because even in the 70’s the difference between parochial school and public school was HUGE. One kid left my class, the only kid dumber than me, and was valedictorian at the local public school. I helped pay for my high school by being a camp counselor in summertime. I also stayed in the seminary because that halved my tuition.
When I graduated, I bought my first car with graduation cash- a 1967 Plymouth Valiant. I paid for it and my insurance, working in the lumberyard. It had an AM radio. That was it’s option. I scraped cash together for my first year of engineering school, and managed to buy a beer or two during that first semester. I never had much in the way of cash, because between books and gas and supplies I was nearly always broke. Oh, let’s not forget car maintenance, hammering my $72 Plymouth Valienat back together over and over again to make it “just one more week, please!!” Bald assed tires and thin brake linings, I remember thinking “I can get about fifty more miles on the cord on these tires” Women? What were they?
Yeah, I was the lucky one. I got the best of the deal. I feel for my sister. Like Freddie, I got the richness of experience- the richness that taught me how to appreciate the things I have gotten.
I’m a graduate of Mrs. Benning’s School For Wayward Boys where nothing was giving to us and nothing was taken for granted.
I’m still amazed by some of life’s lessons taught to me there and later on through my tours.
You were airborne?
It’s amazing how long you can make a car last if you have to. Reminds me of Mom’s “Betsys” (all our calls were named Betsy, and they got their dashboards messaged and were sweet-talked on a regular basis). One of the most fun was a 70-somethin’ Pinto (with the floor board mostly gone) that she had to push to start most of the time.
I’m sure the neighbors found that VERY entertaining.
Make that “all our CARS were named Betsy”.
11B1P.
Ride em cowboy.
Thank you for your service, Dick.
Now, get back to work.
You should’ve kept that old Valiant, especially if it had a slant 6. That engine would have survived, nay, thrived, on the abuse that killed the Honda.
The engine from the valiant is still around, in fact it’s in a pickup truck these days.
More kids today should get that experience, including mine.