Growing Up Unafraid
In Panama City FL, I remember roaming the neighborhood and by the lake when I was probably still in diapers, and later—from age 3 (in 1961)—roaming the streets of post war (and the newly-divided) Berlin, with its bombed-out buildings. The kids there all spoke only German, but we still managed to play together, as we tried to learn each other’s language. “Wie heißt du?” were the first German words I learned. I remember seeing a young German man with long hair and asking him “Bist du ein Beatle?” Since I thought that any guy with long hair MUST have been one of the fab four.
I think exposure to the constantly set of constantly-changing set of diverse worlds—cities, countries, states—and being thrown into new cultures as an only child helped me develop I also think it sharpened my memory. When you’re in a group of people and you’re 4 or 5 and translating for a gathering of adults, it forces you to concentrate, especially when your German isn’t all that good to begin with. I think I was blessed to be an Air Force brat, and an only child. Otherwise I would have had something comfortable and familiar on which to lean, and that might have made me complacent. In ever-changing circumstances you’re always either doing your best to swim in unfamiliar waters, or you’re left alone . . . . waiting . . . This later gives rise to spurring imagination. Imagine, as a fairly young kid, sitting on an airplane for 18 hours—quietly. It makes you have to create adventures and stories in your head. It’s both good and bad being an “only”. You’re alone and yet you’re not, because as an only child your parents take you everywhere and your experience everything.
Naturally, I used to envy those kids who somehow—miraculously—managed to stay in the same house for years, or even more than just one year, or who attended the same school—with the same friends—for years. By the time I graduated High School, I’d attended 14 different schools, some good, some not so good, some tranquil, and some pretty violent. But it’s all a part of growing up, and growing.
I know that there are dangers out there for children in the world, and I knew about the dangers, even as a child. Personally, I think we hear more about the dangers today, not that they’ve grown so much in number. We hear everything today—again and again and again, since the so-called “News” only seems to be able to focus on one story at a time—endlessly. But my mom armed me—prepared me with warnings, and I was a fighter (or so I thought), ready to do battle. My parents would probably get the death penalty these days
