by Serena St. John

Created on: May 11, 2008

Wisdom Increases With the Size of the Butt

We tested our bravery in a variety of ways. There were jumping events, climbing competitions, breath holding stunts, massive eating and drinking contests, and acrobatics just to name a few. These were all rituals we would put ourselves through on a daily basis. They were designed to tell us who we were.

The "tunnel event" was a weather-permitting challenge. A group of us would line up in pre-determined order. The Mission: crawl into the mouth of the drainage pipe located in the side of a hill, and traverse its underground course beneath the neighbor's yard, the street and eventually out to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the road. You would remain underground upon reaching your destination, looking upward at the street from below it. The sky would beam overhead and fresh air would be your reward. There was no emerging at the opposite end, you were trapped until everyone backed out the way we went in.

The enclosed corrugated pipe was approximately 18" in diameter. It was tight-enough of a fit that only a small child in a crawling position could negotiate it. With the feel of our backs scraping against the top of the pipe, and our knees and pant legs submerged in cold water, the task was horrifying, especially since it had to be undertaken in the pitch black. Not even so much as a glimmer of light would allow us to see in the darkness of the tunnel. We had to rely on our other senses to distinguish what was going on.

The order of the line-up depended on the daredevil quotient we each possessed. Back then, that quotient defined who you were as a person and whether you would lead the group or be a follower. The three nine year olds went first, starting with Anita. She was always first and half-way through the tunnel before the second person could even get started.

Roxie would follow. Tomboy bordering on bully, she was a favorite to make it to the end 40 feet away. Next came me, the 3rd of the nine year olds. Debbie, age eight, would sometimes want to back out, followed by 7 year old Annie who never made it but always gave it a shot. Chrissy would linger at the yawning mouth of the tunnel, never sticking much more than a head inside. She was only 3 and the youngest of the bunch. She was also the lookout since we were told over and over not to crawl through the tunnel. Maybe the adults knew something we didn't.

These were the days I like to call "Charlie Brown Days", where the kids were on their own with no parents

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