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Childhood has an expiration date

Everyone watched the clock and counted down the seconds, 15 to go. It had been a great year. Goofy Steve won us the dodge ball championship, Candi had finally given me a kiss, and Bully Brad only beat me up five times, but we were all ready to graduate from Old Mrs. Crabtree’s fifth-grade class and start our summer vacation.

Ten seconds to go. It was going to be the best summer yet; we decided to start Cliff Condos, the big dig to make a cave dwelling in the side of the vacant lot down the street, as soon as school let out. 

Five seconds to go. We were gonna go fishing every day at the lake above the swamp in our backyard, camp out in back of Neighbor Thomas’ house every weekend, and finally beat those kids from the Duke and win the street football championship, bringing the trophy back to Flamingo Street!

Two seconds to go. The summer was going to be the best ever; it’s just a shame that Down the Street Bully Brad passed.  It was his third time in fifth grade, and unfortunately he ended up with a C-minus average. He’d be in junior high school with the rest of us next year.

One second to go. Mrs. Crabtree rambled on about how much she enjoyed having all of us in her class and she might retire, but none of us were listening. The school bell rang, and time stood still. The next twelve weeks were magical; that small sliver of time between being a child and a young adult. It was a time that the innocence of childhood surged through each of us, energizing our bodies and our minds. We were unencumbered with the worries and troubles of the teenage years looming on the horizon. It was the start of the summer to end all summers, a time we thought would last forever. But we were wrong.

Now that the expiration date on our childhood has come and gone, what are all the kids from Flamingo Street doing?

Well, Bubba Hanks is the head football coach for a high school in South Georgia. The Fighting Gators went 11-1 last year, winning the region and battling all the way to the state quarterfinals in single-A football.

Neighbor Thomas put his outdoor skills and knowledge of camping to good use. He’s a forest ranger for the state of North Carolina.

Preston Weston, the rich kid we called Money Bags who lived over on the Duke of Gloucester Street ended up surrounded by money. Since graduating from Princeton with a degree in economics, he has worked for the Federal Reserve in Washington.

Then there’s Bully Brad. On any given day you can find Down the Street Bully Brad inside the federal prison down in South Georgia. But he’s not an inmate. Nope, Bully Brad found a job that was perfectly suited for him and his special talent of being a bully. He’s the meanest prison guard Tinsel County ever seen. Now he can bully around 150 people and get paid for it.

I ran into Brad last month as he came through town for a prisoner transfer. He had just finished eating at my favorite barbeque restaurant and was lumbering down the steps as I was walking across the parking lot. I took the opportunity to ask him if he felt sorry for terrorizing all of us in Old Mrs. Crabtree’s fifth-grade class. If, by some chance over the years, he had reflected back at the young life he led as the neighbor bully and regretted it, knowing that he had hurt a good many people - especially me.

A wounded look washed across his face. It was the look of someone who felt sorry for living a life doing bad deeds to others. It only lasted for a moment, then a leer crept across his lips as his face hardened once again and his black eyes narrowed. Bully Brad looked down at me like one would look at a cockroach needing to be squashed and replied, “Naw, it helped you to build character.” He pushed by me, walked down the steps, climbed into his police cruiser and sped away. I was thankful I didn’t get punched.

And what happened to my best friend, Goofy Steve? Well, old Goof is still making people laugh, but this time he’s getting paid to do it. His new comedy album is due out in late this summer, and he opens in Vegas later this month.  Goof spends his time touring the comedy clubs, with his ever-growing family. He’s been married now for 15 years to Emma, a sweet Southern girl who thinks he’s just the funniest little thing on the planet. They have twin boys, Jeff and Jack; both have freckles, strawberry hair, and long lanky arms and are the tallest kids in Ms. Scruggs’ fifth-grade class, and hear tell they are the funniest, too. Seems they inherited their dad’s funny gene.

I talk to Goof at least once a week or whenever I need cheering up. And as for the other guys from Flamingo Street? Well, we try to talk once a month, but life sometimes gets in the way as our time on this world slowly ebbs away. There’s a big reunion planned for this summer for all the kids from the old neighborhood; Blabber Mouth Betsy and Tattle-Tale Tina are in charge of the arrangements. They’re good at setting up and running big events. When they graduated from college, their unique talents were in big demand. For the last 10 years, both have worked in politics.

Me? Well, after school I bounced around from one job to the next ‘til I finally landed on my feet at the local fire department. This year marks my 18th year. Once every third day, I ride my fire truck or ambulance and try to make a difference in the lives of the people in our county. But it’s the time I spend teaching children about fire safety that I like best, helping to keep them safe and out of harm’s way.

Being around children also does something else. It helps me remember. For you see, I’m very lucky; my childhood doesn’t have an expiration date.