I think I was in sixth grade or so. There was a housing development going in about a mile from my house near a creek where we used to ride our bikes and mess around and do boy stuff. The big machines came in and leveled out a big area and then more machines came in and dug a trench; it was about this time that the work seemed to just stop. Like any inquisitive boys should, we rode our bikes all around the dirt mounds and newly carved but not yet paved street.
It wasn’t long before we were in the trench exploring every nook and cranny.
No reason.
No forethought.
We just had a burning desire to see what was there.
The trench formed a ‘U’ along what eventually became a cul-de-sac. At one point, myself and a couple kdis were in one side of the ‘U’ and one of our friends was in the other side. The trench was just about chest level on most of us and up at ground level there were mounds of dirt. The situation was perfect for what was about to happen.
As we walked along the trench out of the sky came the first shot. The explosion of dust when the dirt clod hit the side of the trench was beautiful. Immediately we all new exactly what we needed to do. Within seconds the sky was alive with fist sized balls of dirt. The ground was a medley of puffs of dust.
Teams formed. Some boundaries were set and we had a full scale war.
Perfection!
We spent the rest of the afternoon hurling wads of earth at each other. The rush was pure and the excitement was true.
We came back the next day and the day after that. Within about a week, you could count on 15 kids showing up to do battle. After a few weeks school started and construction resumed and the battle field is now someones front yard.
There was some blood drawn that summer; a few goose eggs and the occasional dirt in the eye too, and it was so worth it.
Maybe if we were older and we cared more about being safe that first dirt clod wouldn’t have been tossed.
That would have been a shame.
One day I may be walking through a field with you and I may see a dirt clod. I’ll pick it up and hurl it in your direction. Not because I want to hurt you, but because I want you to feel alive, and I want to feel alive too.
This thought is incomplete. Help me figure this out
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I love this story. Where others saw dirt, you saw opportunity. This is the making of memorable living.
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I used to live behind a cow pasture. We threw other stuff… and man could it fly.
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That is the California central valley’s version of a snowball fight. It was the Chicagoan in you that loved that… all the fun without the frostbite.
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Just missing days gone by my brutha…living in complete spontaneity.
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I’ll send a dirt clod my senior pastors way when he walks into the office.
Also, I’ll need you to get me a job after said throw.
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Vince Reply:
December 3rd, 2009 at 11:08 am
@kenny // gross
@Damon // never stop
@adam // can you live on 30K?
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@vince. I am right now….
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I am Jack’s sense of complete agreement.
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