The Captain and Jack

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My TV friends were two guys known as Captain and Jack.  One was a great story teller and the other was the strongest man in the world.

Every morning, my routine started the same whether it was cold or warm outside.  Like many kids, I had to get my daily fix of TV–black and white with three channels.  TV was an escape where the scariest things I saw were images of the Vietnam War.  I didn't know what war was, but I knew there was killing going on, and hatred.  I didn't want any part of that, and somewhere inside myself, I knew I had age in my favor.

Captain Kangaroo and Mister Green Jeans were pretty decent folks.  Even as a kid, I could tell Mister Green Jeans was fruity, but he could tell a good story and so I forgave him his fruitiness.  I figured the Captain kept him in control and wouldn't let him hurt kids.

I loved the Captain.  He was gentle and kind.  I knew since he was a Captain, he was in charge, and so I wanted to believe everything he said.  Plus, he had lots of fun things happening on his show like stories and advice for kids on having fun.

Jack LaLanne was the strongest man alive.  He had big arms because of all the work-outs he did on TV.  All of his routines were done using a kitchen chair.  Most of the stuff he did onscreen, I tried.  I was driven to become strong just like Jack.  If I got strong and had big arms, one of these days, I knew I could beat the crap out of Mikey.

Jack also convinced me that eating the right foods would help me have big arms.  None of that made much sense because my diet was fairly static anyway.  I ate oatmeal mush for breakfast, a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, and meat and potatoes for dinner. Mixed in, here and there, was a candy bar.  Big Hunks were my favorite–that’s about all my dad and mom would buy for me.  Black Cows and Sugar Daddy’s were also great.  I loved the little comics under the wrappers.

One morning, Julie was bothering me while I watched the Captain.  Mom was in the bathroom, so her authority to keep Julie in line was stifled by the barrier of that dang bathroom door.  Julie had a sixth sense knowing when it was safe to get into mischief.  No amount of threats or prodding would get her to leave me alone.  It was important to hear all the Captain had to say.

“Julie, I’m telling mom!” I yelled, as I stomped out of the living room.  I threw open the door to the bathroom.  Mom was in the tub, and there was no curtain… Until that moment, it really didn't occur to me that there were stark differences in gender structure.  The surprise left me speechless and that brief window to get Julie into trouble slammed shut and was gone.

“Get outta here!” mom screamed.  My youthful innocence was suddenly lost forever.
Interruptions to my two TV shows seldom happened.  There were exceptions.  One morning, dad came into the living room early.  He surprised me.  Working night shift, I didn't often see him until afternoon, when he would get up, say hello, and do college homework.

This particular morning, dad said, “Jeff, do you want to spend the day with me? I have to do some police work.  We’re taking a jeep out to Lucky Peak and look for a dead body.”

It never occurred to me what would happen when we all found that dead body.  But 4-wheeling with my dad couldn't be beat.  Dad and I and some other guy who worked for Ada County Sheriff’s Department drove all over the hills near the big reservoir.  I figured if this is what police did all day, I wanted to become a policeman.

The man driving the jeep was a nice guy.  He was a policeman and could be trusted.  I could tell that my dad liked him, so I liked him, too.  As we drove, suddenly a rabbit jumped from behind a bush and took off through the sagebrush.  The man quickly pulled out his pistol, stretched out his arm in front of my dad, and fired away.

I could tell it irritated dad.  Even I knew firing a gun across a person’s body was not a safe thing to do.  Dad chuckled but I knew it was not his happy chuckle.  My ears rang for hours afterward.
To a certain degree, we are defined by what experiences we endure in life.  We see ourselves in relation to everyone around us.  It’s kind of a measuring stick of us against all others. This ‘sandbox’ mentality, I found, is carried into adulthood as folks sit around and play ‘top-it.’  Everyone wants to be recognized as unique and well-travelled.  Some actually are.

After really cool experiences, like riding all over the hills in a jeep looking for a dead body, I felt privileged and just a bit higher on the totem pole than my friends.  Those poor kids had to stay home and do chores for their mothers during my great adventures.  It never occurred to me that sometimes, they probably had a few great adventures of their own.

After spending all day with my dad, he took me to the gas station and bought a Big Hunk.  As the sun set, I sat by myself, under the lilac bush, by the street, and ate it very slowly–relishing every morsel.