“You’re too young for that,” was something that I always hated to hear when I was growing up. Since I was six years younger than my next sibling I was the tagalong. One time my sister promised me she would take me to Deep Lake to swim if I would allow my long and somewhat scraggly hair to be trimmed. As I was sitting in the high chair with the old table cloth around my neck and wiggling about as my mother cut my hair my sister announced, “I was only kidding.” and she dashed out the door to her date’s car. I was so furious after my sister and her fellow drove off that I sneaked out of the house and headed for the lake all by myself. It was a good twenty miles to get there but I was so angry that I didn’t think about that as I ran as fast as I could, soon finding myself alongside the highway that led to the lake.

My big brother who had come home after his job ended during the depression took pity on me and got in his car to go look for me. He had evidently heard my sister tease me and leave the house without me. I was still walking a fast pace when he drove alongside me and called, “Get in. Let’s go swimming.” I will never forget my brother’s kindness.

How often have I, as a parent, had to tell my own children they were too young.

But they were given responsibility when I thought they were ready. Once, my husband and I had left our ten year old son in charge when we were out for an evening. We had quite a surprise when we returned to find him holding our youngest daughter upside down to dislodge a penny that she had swallowed. Thank goodness he was resourceful.

Our second son had a paper route when he was old enough to take the responsibility. I was sorting a box of letters and memorabilia recently and came upon a letter he had written to one of his dead beet customers. He was faithful in delivering the paper but this customer would never pay his bill on time. My son was so upset that he wrote a fiery letter in protest but never gave it to this customer. What a lesson in restraint.

I was always very naïve growing up. I did not have any thought of going out with boys. I remember being invited to a schoolmate’s home for a party when I was in junior high. What a surprise when they announced that they were going to play a game called post office. The one who played the post master would call out a girl’s name and the girl was supposed to go into the place designated as the post office and kiss the boy. I was so startled that I refused to play and sat in a corner and waited for a chance to go home. I decided all by myself that I was too young for that.

Once our older son was very upset because we thought he was too young to wear his hair like the Beatles did. He decided to run away from home. No one knew where he had gone until the phone rang and he was on the line saying, “I’m out at the airport and need a ride home.” Shades of my own anger and determination to walk all the way to the lake when I could not keep up with my older sister.

Our second son admitted that he watched from the sidelines and learned from his older brother’s mistakes. It wasn’t until he had steeled himself by taking a job lifting heavy garbage cans before the trucks were mechanized that he could match up to his big brother. Now I am the one watching from the sidelines, giving support but not parental advice. It must be working as we are all on speaking terms in our family.
Georgie Bright Kunkel is a freelance writer who can be reached at gnkunkel@comcast.net or 206-935-8553.