I had already been overwhelmed by the best weapons adults have over such things as childish wars.

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I’m going to finish this story with a few thoughts from my “adult” self but first…

Every day I read about, hear of and see so many, SO MANY! examples of children (of all ages and from all kinds of backgrounds) surviving abuse, neglect, violence, brutality… real war. Who now, (mostly now as adults) tell their stories with amazing courage. Who now inspire others to begin confronting the often paralyzing fear, anger and shame that still haunts their every waking moment.

These heroic souls (and many others who’ve found their own paths to adulthood) know full well about the weapons of which I now speculate. They know far better than I do. And my stories of the violence I witnessed and experienced, pales in comparison. My adult self bows in humble gratitude to them. Yes, I also recognize that my experience is as valid as that of anyone’s. And it is only of my experience that I can relate here.

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As the fake war of our little dead end cul-de-sac world led to the real violence that permanently damaged someone’s precious child, my adult self tells me that I may have been protected by what I am now referring to as the best weapons adults have over childish wars. It is of course not a new idea. That good parenting, love, attention, and the ability to distract a child from activities known to be unduly dangerous, is demonstrably helpful in preventing anyone’s precious child from the above fate… and worse. And I am not pretending to be any kind of expert here.

But my parents were operating from a playbook that was quite new at the time. They were young and modern and knew that they wanted something different for their children than how they had been raised. I said it in previous posts in this blog and I’ll say it again… this, wasn’t the first time I was the unwitting subject of experimental practices in policy and procedure by those with authority. And it wouldn’t be the last. As I will describe in future stories.

I say this with some confidence because I do know that most parents of the early 1960’s did not operate from the same playbook as my parents did. They believed that a child needed to first and foremost be obedient and compliant so they can be trained in the ways of a “dog-eat-dog” world. These parents believed that by doing this, they were honoring and respecting the traditions of their own upbringing and providing their children with the tools for survival and/or success. I am not saying that it was wrong to do this and of course I recognize how so many parents feel they have no choice given the socio-economic realities of their specific situations.

I understand how privileged my parents were to be in a position at all to try something new. And by no means did they try everything they could have.

I AM saying that I was damned lucky that my parents put me in boy scouts, made me play sports, encouraged me to learn a musical instrument and made me go to church. Yes, these were not part of any new playbook but they also… never hit me, never behaved in ways contrary to how they taught me to behave and when they argued with each other, they never allowed us children to see those arguments. They also listened to me when I had the courage to assert myself and forgave me when I screwed up. I’m not saying that the newish playbook they used was top of the line and some of the books were actually quite silly by today’s standards. I’m only saying that they were trying to parent differently… better than what they had had.

My parents saw that the old weapons given by their parents inevitably led to war. They saw the truth in that by observing those around them who continued to give those weapons to their children.

My parents tried to give me and my siblings weapons of peace. They were experimental weapons at the time and of limited effectiveness. Many subsequent parents have developed far better ones over the years. It is my deepest wish that I live long enough to see them deployed effectively and win that peace.

Put an end to childish war.