A kid near me on the beach was making a racquet the other day. Yelps and screeches flooded the waterfront. Not a two year old. A ten year old! Some kids are like that. I call them screamers. You often run into them at the beach. Every splash yields a high-pitched scream. It\u2019s worse when the tide\u2019s coming in and a new wave rolls up every few seconds. Most kids play and laugh with each wave. Not a screamer. Every wave sends a screech across the shore. This kid\u2019s mother and father were oblivious. Never a, \u201cStop that screaming!\u201d or \u201cIf you scream one more time you\u2019re going to sit on the towel for ten minutes!\u201d Nothing! No consequences. Thus, a screamer was born and nurtured.<\/p>\n
I happened to be fishing next to this one in the surf. He was screeching, so I said, \u201cIt sounds like you\u2019re having a good time.\u201d And, then shut my mouth. I wanted to say, \u201c Do you have to scream so loud; it bothers people. Your screech is like nails dragging across a blackboard.\u201d Had I said that, he would have looked at me like I was crazy and yelled, \u201cWhat\u2019s a blackboard mister?\u201d That\u2019s because I\u2019m in a foreign country – Modern America. It\u2019s six decades removed from the land I grew up in. Each decade moves me 1,000 miles from shore. Right about now I estimate I\u2019m someplace in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a remote island. Populated with old coots like myself.<\/p>\n
I went back to my fishing, shoved a pair of noise canceling ear buds into place and listened to an electronic version of ocean waves. When you\u2019re in a foreign land, you have to adapt.<\/p>\n
The screamer will never know what it\u2019s like to stand at a blackboard in front of the class, writing, \u201cI will not scream in class,\u201d 50 times. He\u2019ll never experience a spank to the bottom to teach him not to bolt into traffic. He\u2019ll never be taught to unloosen a nut by turning it counterclockwise. There are no timepieces with hands that circle a clock face in his land.<\/p>\n
The land where I grew up was a land of consequences. I\u2019m not mad; I\u2019m jealous. I spent too many hours staying in school long after the dismissal bell rang. And, too many days in the cloakroom while my classmates were enjoying recess on the playground. I wasn\u2019t alone; my friends were absent from playtime as well. Woody was sitting at attention at his desk, Buzzy was in the corner facing the wall and Cady was doing solitary in the hall. All serving a sentence for violating one rule or another. There were multiple mechanisms for behavior modification. Solitary confinement was quite effective, as was missing out on recess. They both worked miracles.<\/p>\n
What\u2019s my point? I\u2019m not sure. I just get irked when a screamer is allowed to run free while I had to do the time. But heck, that\u2019s what it\u2019s like to be a visitor in a foreign land.<\/p>\n
Comments? Complaints? \u2013 mlessler7@gmail.com.<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A kid near me on the beach was making a racquet the other day. Yelps and screeches flooded the waterfront. Not a two year old….<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-49330","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-editorial"],"yoast_head":"\n