The Lament of the Old

The old folk, they tell me about how they used to run and play outside. "Don't come in until dinner is ready." They played, and imagined, and threw rocks, and accidentally hit baseballs into the crotchety neighbor's windows. They skinned their knees. They blew up toy soldiers. They made crowns out of flowers.

"Kids these days. Ugh. It's just the end of the world. The end of America!" they say.

"Kids these days. They just sit in front of their televisions or their laptops or their iMajiggers. They're soft. The schools spend so much time worrying about their precious self esteem that they don't bother to teach 'em. Everyone wins, everyone's special? They're fat and lazy. They don't know the value of hard work. They're spoiled. America is going down the tubes."

Oh, the lament of the Old.

So, I come bearing this tidbit of good news. Take heart! (Take pacemaker?) A time may come were we all press 8 for English, and when our children are too lardy to run the kickball bases without a 15 minute union break.

But that day is not today!

A time may come when Ronald McDonald is the write-in winner for the Presidency. A time may come when the leading injury in children in carpel tunnel syndrome from countless hours of button mashing on the latest video game. It may someday come to pass that it is considered a form of abuse to ban your 7 year old from Facebook.

But that day is not today!

A time may come when public the school systems limit outdoor recess time to a four second glimpse out the window. There may come a day when not one child in our country knows what it feels like to catch a pop fly in a well worn baseball mitt... until the wii comes out with an "Authentic Feel Baseball Mitt" attachment.

But that day is not today.
Of this, I am certain.

At this very moment Bae and Phoenix are leaping about the in backyard. They are armed with one shield, a plastic light saber, a felt centurion helmet, and what appears to be a glow-in-the-dark scythe. They've decimated entire ranks of Bad Guys. They've fought zombies. They've been firefighter, cops, and space pirates. They fought off powerful spells.

They're fighting for good, they're fighting for justice, and they are unknowingly fighting to preserve your Norman Rockwellian ideals of American children. They will fight to the end, or until dinner time when they're called back into the house.

They are stalwart defenders of the-

Oh, wait. And now, they are digging up worms in a surprisingly elaborate plan to catch a robin.

Rest easy, septuagenarians. There are still kids with scraped knees and intact innocence. There are still water balloons, cap guns, superheroes, and the integrity of children who know they're "it" when they've been tagged. Your world is still alive, hidden in the tall grass of my back yard. Your games are still being played. You laughs are still being laughed. Your childhood is still being lived by a new generation of bright-eyed kids. And your nation's future is safe in their dirty, worm-scooping hands.