Have Fun, Kids?

Reality to Earth . . . Come in . . .

A week or so back, I ran into one of those pass-along posts on my social network of choice which I actually found interesting enough to pass on; a somewhat rare occasion. The body of what I moved along is as follows (Along with the adaptations I made for my somewhat more urban, ethnic childhood.):

If you grew up on pasta and beans, your crib was covered in lead paint, rode a bike with no helmet, your parents had no child-proof lids or car seat belts, you got 'the belt' or 'wooden spoon' when you misbehaved, had 3 TV channels you got up to change, school started with the Pledge of Allegiance, stores were closed Sunday, you drank water out of the hydrant or a water hose and still turned out okay, repost this.

I found it amusing, remembering a lot of the things we did as kids in the era I grew up in. I may have had a few more channels; I assume the person who sent it out was talking about having the CBC and two local stations in Canada, but it reflected the same reality of our childhood back then. We took the bumps and bruises childhood had in store for us, dealt with the limitations of the time and emerged little the worse for overall wear.

Fast forward to Monday, when bureaucrats in my home state of New York issued a ruling on any program for children which thinks to offer two or more recreational activities with one of them on what is deemed "The Risky List". This distinction magically transforms the program into a summer camp, causing them to pay a $200 fee and subjecting them to state regulations which would, among other things, require a medical staff.

Besides the attempt by the attempted tweaking of a 2009 law to wring a fee out of small programs which many working parents are desperate for these days, there's the matter of just what's on the list.

While I appreciate that these programs have to be held to a certain standard of practice and oversight regarding how they go about their business, putting such games as Tag, Kickball, Red Rover and Wiffle Ball on a list of things which pose a significant rick of injury (Their words, not mine) rings my silly alarm like few things ever have. As of this day, they've stepped back a bit on the language of the program regulations, but the intent brings up a little societal glitch we seem to have developed. We're protecting our children to a fault, and forgetting a good deal about what made us adults capable of surviving with our bodies, and senses of humor, intact.

We occasionally got a bit nutty in my old neighborhood, I'll admit it. Wiffle ball is one thing, wiffle bat duels are something else altogether. If the health department had seen what we did with leftover wood, old shopping cart wheels and milk crates (go-carts), the same leftover wood and chicken wire (hockey goals), or dozens and dozens of broken broomsticks and mop handles taken out into the wide avenue with traffic passing periodically (True stickball can't be played any other way, whether you used a 'spaldeen' or a 'seamless') they'd have either closed down our street as a health hazard or marveled at the calm our mothers had as they said "Just don't get hurt" . . . Tending repair when we actually took a scrape or two.

And a lot of us turned out okay, much to our own surprise sometimes. Have fun, kids. Put down your communication device of choice, get outside, and take some time away from the screens which dominate your life. A game of tag or wiffle ball wouldn't hurt either.

Earth - I Live Here (I Just Can't Believe What I'm Seeing)

Reality to Earth . . . Come in Earth . . . We've lost contact with you.

Or Visa Versa. As we sit here on our little blue rock, it seems things have gotten stretched out of proportion a bit. Everything that doesn't seem content to merely leave you shaking your head seems determined to lop it off at the shoulders. It's lovely April 18th here in the over-sized amusement park we call United States-Land, and many of us are being amused by both the IRS and our state and local government bureaus of taxation.

Today's most amusing note comes from the commissioner of the IRS, who advises us in a letter on the second page of the instructions for the 1040 form of how hard they work to make the process of filing taxes as quick and easy as possible.

This is stated, by the way, on page two of one hundred ninety two, which you need to fill out a two page form (Slightly more than two with schedules attached). No less than three years ago, the same book weighed in at a relatively svelte ninety-two. They used to mail it out not so long ago, back when it was under seventy. Now you have to find it on-line and exhaust toner cartridges in order to have your own copy.

Simple and tax is a combination which is not now, nor has it ever has been, an option, short of having a large gentleman grab you by the heels and shake vigorously until your debt is satisfied. Going through the process as it currently stands makes that seem like a plan.

This is the first and last time I'll talk about taxes, but on this date it's a good place to start a blog on the things in our lives which strain belief.

Let the games begin.