Freedom of Choice

Freedom to take chances, make mistakes, build self-confidence and self-worth, and take on new adventures.

It was early Saturday morning as we were running out the kitchen backdoor onto the screened-in back porch we heard our mother yell out, “Be nice, be good, be safe, and most of all make wise decisions.” And then, “Don’t slam the screen door.” Just as the wooden screened door with its coiled metal spring stretched almost to the point of no return, the wooden door slipped through the little fingers of my right hand as I held my breakfast of an open-faced piece of toast with a glob of peanut butter in my left hand trying not to drop it as we raced down the back porch steps.

There was that slam our mother didn’t want to hear, however for Rich and me, it was like a starter's pistol being shot as we both raced to start our first day of summer and adventures.

Our summers were always surrounded by the game of baseball especially when we were only 6 and 7 years of age. Whether playing catch or a pick-up game of sandlot with the Stallbaumer twins, John and Joe, and the rest of the neighborhood kids. However, today’s adventure was making enough money for a new baseball as the week before we had a casualty by losing our ball to the infamous street gutter behind the backstop of St. Anthony’s ball field.

Imagine two young skinny, freckled-faced boys ages 6 and 7 walking around the downtown streets and alleys of this small town early in the morning unsupervised doing God knows what.

We knew what, we were on a mission, and it was truly a different time and century.

So, our first stop was going to be the Commodore Club, the local beer joint and pool hall downtown which was a couple of blocks away from home. At the back of the building in the alley, there were almost always 3 or four pop bottles. We were in luck as there were 6 unbroken or chipped bottles and we were well on our way to the .25 cents it was going to take to buy that new Wilson leather baseball.

Walking the alleys of downtown Wellington was where we found all kinds of treasures, however, as I mentioned we were on a mission to find pop bottles, and at 3 cents apiece we needed to find at least 9 unbroken bottles to accomplish our mission.

Well, our next stop was not just up the street but was at the outskirts of town to one of Wellington’s night spots at the time. It was about 2 or 3 miles from home and on State Highway 81 heading toward Wichita. There were almost always several bottles there, but you had to get there early as the other kids in town knew this as well.

However, none of those kids were as determined as my brother Rich, and I were, as we had to have a baseball to start the summer off right. As we walked up the left side of the highway watching for cars, trucks, and farm vehicles, we also kept our eyes peeled for the glass treasures, and as luck would have it, we found about 6 more bottles in that stretch of highway to add to our collection even before getting to the night club's empty parking lot.

Once there we found several broken bottles lying around but none were completely intact, and it looked as though someone had beaten us to the treasure that might have been. So, we grabbed our sack of bottles and headed back towards home to pay a visit to Mr. Hepler, the proprietor, butcher, and manager of the bottle returns at Hepler’s small corner meat and grocery store a few blocks further from home in the opposite direction.

Mr. Hepler was always happy to exchange our bottles but when we had more than a couple, he always negotiated the price and he always wanted to barter in penny candy. Most of the time we were more than happy to make that kind of deal with him. Today though it was business, and we needed the cash or should I say pennies.

We still ended up with about 10 cents worth of candy and gum but felt we came out ahead as we still had enough left over for our baseball. It was a win-win for us and Mr. Hepler. Then with cash in hand, or should I say pennies we proceeded to the Otasco General Store and the sports section to purchase that coveted baseball so we could begin our summer ball games.

The reason for the story above is to show a little difference between when I grew up to how my grandchildren are growing up.

In the 1960s it was a slower pace, there was quite a bit of innocence, and freedom to explore and create, almost no television. We used our public libraries, and World Book of Encyclopedias for information. It is not as much as the information and marketing ads coming at us at the speed of the screen door being slammed that my grandchildren get to experience every day.

Yes, it is different times. Though I was taught lessons without even being conscious it was happening.

I think and wonder about some of the things our children and grandchildren may be missing and what they are.

The freedom, of adventures.

The opportunities, to make little decisions that won’t kill you whether right or wrong.

The value, of earning and spending a few pennies.

The chance, to be creative and think outside the norm.

To dream big.

The support, from home which provides everything we need and provides a space and a chance to earn those things we may want, by working for it.

Being reminded, daily as we leave our nest, to be nice, be good, and make good decisions as it makes for a better place for all.

The early bird gets the worm. Maybe if we had left a little earlier, we could have found more bottles at the end of the highway. Maybe not but it is always good to be there first.

Learning to negotiate, to get what you want (the baseball) but leaving enough on the table for the other party to get what they want. (Candy sales and not as much cash going out of your business. Every penny counts. Thank you, Mr. Hepler)

Respect, for oneself and that of others.

Every adventure has a lesson and making wise decisions from those lessons helps to accomplish your goals faster. This is my story and some of the many lessons I have learned through my years. Most of them were lessons learned because I was given the freedom of choice.

What are your thoughts, stories, and lessons learned on your early adventures? I would love to hear them.