Published: July 07, 2008 09:51 pm            

Cathie Shaffer: Some lessons are for life

My mother has always been an eminently sensible woman who knew her children well.

So we never got to play with fireworks on the Fourth of July. In fact, she shuddered when our cousins gave us girls sparklers, envisioning hair aflame or spark burns all over our bare feet.

Of course, even the best of parents can’t control their children’s every move or be with them every moment. And I’m certain that when she and my aunt decided to take their seven combined daughters camping, they imagined healthy fun in the great outdoors.

Along with the usual swimming, rock hunting and hiking, we older girls also scouted the boys. Ranging in age from 13 to 16, we were at the prime time in our teen years to be impressed by the antics of slightly bad boys.

I say slightly bad boys because real bad boys wouldn’t be caught dead tenting with the parents, then or now.

We met these particular semi-bad boys at a teen dance at the state park shelter house. The deejay was forgettable, the music whatever was popular back in the ’60s. The only reason we stayed from start to finish was the lure of the opposite sex.

We talked and we danced, and then the boys offered to show us something in the dark, away from the chaperoned shelter house.

No, it’s not what you’re thinking.

My oldest cousin, the bravest of us all, sneaked back to our campsite and brought back a bottle of heavy-duty hair spray. One of the boys produced a lighter and voila! A homemade flame thrower.

Looking back now, with the wisdom I’ve gained over the years, I’m grateful and truly surprised we didn’t start a forest fire. We all took turns with the lighter and hair spray, shooting the flames first against rock and dirt, then more bravely against twigs and leaves.

We were saved from disaster by the can running out of spray. When the dance officially ended, the guys headed their way and we went ours.

It’s been a long time since I camped or did anything else with those cousins, and I’ve long forgotten the boys’ names and faces.

But it’s nice to know that if I’m ever trapped in the bathroom by a madman, and there happens to be a lighter handy, I know exactly how to defend myself.

        

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