“This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,”*
23 Replies to “” And so we did what any two young boys would do. We improved our fort and hauled in supplies. “”
Oh, man.
The fortresses we built when we were kids.
Yep. It’s fort-building time. And once again … it’s needed to keep the so-called “adults” OUT. Isn’t that what Bidinh said after his illicit selection? That the “adults” were back in-charge? To ruin our lives?
And don’t try any smash and grabs … cause I ain’t throwing mud balls for defense anymore.
Out for a walk this morning I saw a neat little cave by the river. Thought ‘ that’d make an awesome fort!’
Then remembered I have to go do laundry before work tomorrow.
Kinda sad
Dynamite was never the problem. My uncle was short 2 or 3 fingers from a blasting cap. I had a blast lighting foot long sections of fuse.
Thank you so much for this link, I laughed like a loon while reading it.
I grew up with my siblings in the early 60’s. We lived in Lendrum Place, a sub-division of Edmonton on the south side. In the summer, we would collect discarded building materials and make “forts”. There were so many nails holding the forts together, that you dare not sit up straight in case your head came in contact with a protruding nail. Did we ever think to bang the nails back? Nah! that was for sissies.
In the winter, it was our job to shovel the driveway and so would end up with big piles of snow in the front and back yards. We would tunnel into the snowbank, and hollow out a small ‘room” for the interior. Dad would let us use the hose to water the snow and make it into ice. We would then crawl through the tunnel with a candle in a tin can and pretend to be Eskimos. Ah! fun times!
One brother grew up to be an architect and I became a commercial interior designer. To my knowledge, not one of our clients complained about protruding nails!
Big Mom..
Who as a kid in the late ’50’s early 60’s did NOT build forts..??
I lived on # 6 Rd in Richmond (S. of Sidaway Rd for those who know), on a Peat moss Farm at the time…we had huge tracts of land to do so….and did. Good times…except when I once looked behind me on my 2 wheeler and ended up driving myself right into a Ditch…!!
Upon climbing out, I looked like the monster from the Green lagoon…lol, my friends roared laffin at me….I for some reason was not all that amused.
Ahhh days and times with little worries….2 Television stations w/ Rabbit ears antenna on a
CRT / Vacuum Tube run unit…Dad always going to the drug store for this tube or that…
Cultural appropriation!!!!!! For shame!!!
Dear Kate – what a great link American Digest is!
One of my old foremen had a funny story from around that time period. Apparently, at that time in Saskatchewan there was a bounty on crows. Boys could earn a bit of coin by shooting crows and bringing the bird’s feet to their teacher who was authorized to pay the bounty.
Sometimes the boys ran out of crows but still wanted the money. Their solution: they’d get blackbirds and pass them off as crows feet. In order to not get caught, they’d let the blackbird feet rot for awhile. When the teacher opened the box, the stench of rotting feet stopped her from looking too closely to notice the bird feet were not from crows.
He had great stories, often better with each telling.
When I was a kid we used to raid construction sites looking for scrap wood to build forts.
Warren
Yeah, I too remember raiding construction sites. One time we even took a bag of cement. We used it as mortar for our front wall of rocks (2 ft high)
Cement? We never went that far. But I’m sure if we had thought of it…
I grew up in the way out suburbs of Sacramento, CA. And they were building ‘Phase II of Del Rancho Vista’ a block from our house. The rolling hills of poppy and lupine were being flattened for blocks upon blocks of 3 bed, 2 bath cracker box houses. We kids virtually LIVED in the unfinished houses. However, one day … I thought the 6ft deep utility trench would make a great hideout/fort. Right up until the time I couldn’t get out of the trench. I tried to run up the dirt ramp formed by excavator … but the loose dirt kept slipping under my feet, and the more I tried to run up the dirt ramp … the more I pushed the dirt and steepened the ramp. I was stuck. My 5yo self wasn’t crying about being stuck … but crying about what my dad would do to me when he was told of my predicament by my brother. Good reason for crying as it turned out.
Thanks, Kate
Nostalgic read
I wonder if any kids nowadays build forts. Or did that go out with bthe Boomer and GenX generations?
Kids today pay the $200 Disneyland Park admission … then after standing 6ft apart in line for 2-1/2 hours, they get to climb through Tarzan’s Treehouse. Move along please.
Et in arcadia ego.
I recall my friends & I building a raft from odds & ends we found floating on the lake. My dad was some peeved when he found out I’d used his special siding nails. Not having a clue what we were doing, as the nails were too short, the raft kept falling apart in the waves.
My kids & their buddies once cut down some small trees (waist height) to build a tree fort. Their method of testing the strength was to send up the chubby kid. If she didn’t fall through, they figured they were safe.
What a great piece. Made my eyes kinda moist.
Wonderful story, Kate… Thank you!
Since I’m lazy, I’ll just “copy and paste” the header I used when sharing your post to friends on Facebook.
“A wonderful story, bringing back memories of my childhood…
Some of the details are worth noting, it was Acton, California, not Paradise, and the escape was my parents rescuing their asthmatic son from the smog in Pasadena. You ain’t seen smog until you’ve seen a 1950’s sunset in Pasadena.
Had lots of mines to explore with great childhood friends, but this close call was solo… My Mom and I were visiting a French veteran from World War I that made the mistake of slipping up and mentioning his “powder magazine” when I was in earshot.
Long story short… me outside so the adults could talk about “adult stuff”, lots of digging, clearing out what must have been 20 years of pack rat nests, but there it was!
You should have seen the look on peoples faces when I walked into the living room, proudly holding an electric blasting cap by the leads (un-shunted, of course) in one hand, and a stick of dynamite (kinda oily looking on one end) in the other.
I didn’t even get in trouble… people were too frightened.
.
I’ve been watched over for a long time…
They say that God watches over kids and idiots… He got a twofer that day.”
You made my day, Kate!
I will take Young and Stupid for 500, Alex.. I will call it 1975.. I was nine years old walking down Finch Avenue in Toronto with pellet rifle in my hand.. A off duty Cop shut me down and took my pellet rifle away.. Where you going! and get over here!.. He was not impressed with my stupidity.. If I wanted it back my dad could pick it up at the police station.. He did and I don’t recall ever seeing it again..
Careless parents spawning carefree children.. Adults had their world and we had our own.. I have no idea when politics became important enough for me to notice.. But I’m glad mom and dad didn’t make me feel like a 5 year old POS because the Vietnam war was happening.. Politics hadn’t seeped into kindergarten yet.. Adults knew their place and so did we.. Warts and all, it was a special time..
John,
How things changed from the 60’s to the 70’s. I lived in a small town in the 60’s and we would openly carry our pellet guns and later 22’s to the nearby railroad tracks and follow them out of town to hunt, mostly rabbits, ground hogs and squirrels. Hunting was considered a character building enterprise and we got our hunting licences at sixteen, same as our drivers licence. In high school we had cadets and a rifle range in the school basement. We stayed after school to shoot single shot .22’s at targets. I was pretty good but not good enough to go to Bisley in England. We also used to make bombs with our home made gunpowder. We were not so stupid as to use iron pipe, we used aluminum mailing tubes and electric ignition. Place one under a slice of bread and wait for the starlings to congregate. Swore of bombs when I gave the black powder recipe to the wrong kid and he blew up a telephone booth. This was around the time of the FLQ bombings in Quebec so it made the news. It’s a such different world to grow up in nowadays.
I was 5 when I started walking a mile through fields and forests to visit the nearest neighbours. The coyotes were afraid of everyone in those days and bears and cougars were shot on site. I never saw one growing up. By the time I was 12 I would walk or bike for miles through bush bush trails and back roads. I only remember catching hell once when I arrived home at about 8:00 PM. Supper was the deadline. When I was 12, if I wasn’t heading for a nearby park, I started packing a .22 in the winter to shoot squirrels or a shotgun with a couple slugs for good measure. I never allowed my kids to do any of that shit.
Oh, man.
The fortresses we built when we were kids.
Yep. It’s fort-building time. And once again … it’s needed to keep the so-called “adults” OUT. Isn’t that what Bidinh said after his illicit selection? That the “adults” were back in-charge? To ruin our lives?
And don’t try any smash and grabs … cause I ain’t throwing mud balls for defense anymore.
Out for a walk this morning I saw a neat little cave by the river. Thought ‘ that’d make an awesome fort!’
Then remembered I have to go do laundry before work tomorrow.
Kinda sad
Dynamite was never the problem. My uncle was short 2 or 3 fingers from a blasting cap. I had a blast lighting foot long sections of fuse.
Thank you so much for this link, I laughed like a loon while reading it.
I grew up with my siblings in the early 60’s. We lived in Lendrum Place, a sub-division of Edmonton on the south side. In the summer, we would collect discarded building materials and make “forts”. There were so many nails holding the forts together, that you dare not sit up straight in case your head came in contact with a protruding nail. Did we ever think to bang the nails back? Nah! that was for sissies.
In the winter, it was our job to shovel the driveway and so would end up with big piles of snow in the front and back yards. We would tunnel into the snowbank, and hollow out a small ‘room” for the interior. Dad would let us use the hose to water the snow and make it into ice. We would then crawl through the tunnel with a candle in a tin can and pretend to be Eskimos. Ah! fun times!
One brother grew up to be an architect and I became a commercial interior designer. To my knowledge, not one of our clients complained about protruding nails!
Big Mom..
Who as a kid in the late ’50’s early 60’s did NOT build forts..??
I lived on # 6 Rd in Richmond (S. of Sidaway Rd for those who know), on a Peat moss Farm at the time…we had huge tracts of land to do so….and did. Good times…except when I once looked behind me on my 2 wheeler and ended up driving myself right into a Ditch…!!
Upon climbing out, I looked like the monster from the Green lagoon…lol, my friends roared laffin at me….I for some reason was not all that amused.
Ahhh days and times with little worries….2 Television stations w/ Rabbit ears antenna on a
CRT / Vacuum Tube run unit…Dad always going to the drug store for this tube or that…
Cultural appropriation!!!!!! For shame!!!
Dear Kate – what a great link American Digest is!
One of my old foremen had a funny story from around that time period. Apparently, at that time in Saskatchewan there was a bounty on crows. Boys could earn a bit of coin by shooting crows and bringing the bird’s feet to their teacher who was authorized to pay the bounty.
Sometimes the boys ran out of crows but still wanted the money. Their solution: they’d get blackbirds and pass them off as crows feet. In order to not get caught, they’d let the blackbird feet rot for awhile. When the teacher opened the box, the stench of rotting feet stopped her from looking too closely to notice the bird feet were not from crows.
He had great stories, often better with each telling.
When I was a kid we used to raid construction sites looking for scrap wood to build forts.
Warren
Yeah, I too remember raiding construction sites. One time we even took a bag of cement. We used it as mortar for our front wall of rocks (2 ft high)
Cement? We never went that far. But I’m sure if we had thought of it…
I grew up in the way out suburbs of Sacramento, CA. And they were building ‘Phase II of Del Rancho Vista’ a block from our house. The rolling hills of poppy and lupine were being flattened for blocks upon blocks of 3 bed, 2 bath cracker box houses. We kids virtually LIVED in the unfinished houses. However, one day … I thought the 6ft deep utility trench would make a great hideout/fort. Right up until the time I couldn’t get out of the trench. I tried to run up the dirt ramp formed by excavator … but the loose dirt kept slipping under my feet, and the more I tried to run up the dirt ramp … the more I pushed the dirt and steepened the ramp. I was stuck. My 5yo self wasn’t crying about being stuck … but crying about what my dad would do to me when he was told of my predicament by my brother. Good reason for crying as it turned out.
Thanks, Kate
Nostalgic read
I wonder if any kids nowadays build forts. Or did that go out with bthe Boomer and GenX generations?
Kids today pay the $200 Disneyland Park admission … then after standing 6ft apart in line for 2-1/2 hours, they get to climb through Tarzan’s Treehouse. Move along please.
Et in arcadia ego.
I recall my friends & I building a raft from odds & ends we found floating on the lake. My dad was some peeved when he found out I’d used his special siding nails. Not having a clue what we were doing, as the nails were too short, the raft kept falling apart in the waves.
My kids & their buddies once cut down some small trees (waist height) to build a tree fort. Their method of testing the strength was to send up the chubby kid. If she didn’t fall through, they figured they were safe.
What a great piece. Made my eyes kinda moist.
Wonderful story, Kate… Thank you!
Since I’m lazy, I’ll just “copy and paste” the header I used when sharing your post to friends on Facebook.
“A wonderful story, bringing back memories of my childhood…
Some of the details are worth noting, it was Acton, California, not Paradise, and the escape was my parents rescuing their asthmatic son from the smog in Pasadena. You ain’t seen smog until you’ve seen a 1950’s sunset in Pasadena.
Had lots of mines to explore with great childhood friends, but this close call was solo… My Mom and I were visiting a French veteran from World War I that made the mistake of slipping up and mentioning his “powder magazine” when I was in earshot.
Long story short… me outside so the adults could talk about “adult stuff”, lots of digging, clearing out what must have been 20 years of pack rat nests, but there it was!
You should have seen the look on peoples faces when I walked into the living room, proudly holding an electric blasting cap by the leads (un-shunted, of course) in one hand, and a stick of dynamite (kinda oily looking on one end) in the other.
I didn’t even get in trouble… people were too frightened.
.
I’ve been watched over for a long time…
They say that God watches over kids and idiots… He got a twofer that day.”
You made my day, Kate!
I will take Young and Stupid for 500, Alex.. I will call it 1975.. I was nine years old walking down Finch Avenue in Toronto with pellet rifle in my hand.. A off duty Cop shut me down and took my pellet rifle away.. Where you going! and get over here!.. He was not impressed with my stupidity.. If I wanted it back my dad could pick it up at the police station.. He did and I don’t recall ever seeing it again..
Careless parents spawning carefree children.. Adults had their world and we had our own.. I have no idea when politics became important enough for me to notice.. But I’m glad mom and dad didn’t make me feel like a 5 year old POS because the Vietnam war was happening.. Politics hadn’t seeped into kindergarten yet.. Adults knew their place and so did we.. Warts and all, it was a special time..
John,
How things changed from the 60’s to the 70’s. I lived in a small town in the 60’s and we would openly carry our pellet guns and later 22’s to the nearby railroad tracks and follow them out of town to hunt, mostly rabbits, ground hogs and squirrels. Hunting was considered a character building enterprise and we got our hunting licences at sixteen, same as our drivers licence. In high school we had cadets and a rifle range in the school basement. We stayed after school to shoot single shot .22’s at targets. I was pretty good but not good enough to go to Bisley in England. We also used to make bombs with our home made gunpowder. We were not so stupid as to use iron pipe, we used aluminum mailing tubes and electric ignition. Place one under a slice of bread and wait for the starlings to congregate. Swore of bombs when I gave the black powder recipe to the wrong kid and he blew up a telephone booth. This was around the time of the FLQ bombings in Quebec so it made the news. It’s a such different world to grow up in nowadays.
I was 5 when I started walking a mile through fields and forests to visit the nearest neighbours. The coyotes were afraid of everyone in those days and bears and cougars were shot on site. I never saw one growing up. By the time I was 12 I would walk or bike for miles through bush bush trails and back roads. I only remember catching hell once when I arrived home at about 8:00 PM. Supper was the deadline. When I was 12, if I wasn’t heading for a nearby park, I started packing a .22 in the winter to shoot squirrels or a shotgun with a couple slugs for good measure. I never allowed my kids to do any of that shit.