NEEDING MORE: HOW TO CONTROL THAT EMPTY FEELING

Needing more of something depends on age.

Kids needing more kid stuff like their friends; young people need more experience than they’ve had time to acquire; old people need more time to figure out what they missed along the way.

We’re needy from the start.

Babies need more mom and dad time, grandparents need more baby time, and somehow it all adds up satisfactorily.

Until you meet an empty hole of need that never gets enough, never fills up, and works hard to hide their condition.

As a kid growing up I lived on a hill, an unpaved hill with deep rain drain ruts. It was the Oregon coast so the ruts were cut deep by non-stop rain mixed with cloudy days and high wind.

In other words, a perfect Oregon place.

No one drove up the hill and few attempted coming down. It was the sort of hill you’d see now with a sign that promises: “This will be a through street with future development.”

The future showed up on Ohio Street with new curbs to start. One of the older kids decided the curb gutter was wide enough to ride a skateboard on. And he was right.

The only problem was a Volkswagen van rearview mirror. Skateboard guy got clotheslined by the mirror. Hey Jerry M.

Eventually the city paved the street and soon after the races started.

Kid Coasters On A New Hill

I lived in a house at the bottom of the hill with forest on the uphill side. We were the last house on our side of the street with a front yard perfect for viewing the newest activity.

We were the first to build a race car to coast the hill. A rectangle of 3/4 plywood with a 2X4 rear axle nailed in, a 2X4 front axle center bolted for steering, it was a crude coaster on old wheels for a bumpy ride down a smooth road.

We laid on it and steered with our hands, sat on it and steered with our feet, eventually adding a rope loop to hang onto. As kings of the hill we invited our friends over to coast down. It was freedom of motion and exercise without feeling like exercise.

In other words, it was fun with a big F. U. N.

We piled onto the homemade coaster to see how many would fit, partnered up to find the fastest team, and in general ran around like little kooks discovering something they liked but weren’t sure why.

Was it the speed, the realization that kids were more than they appeared to be? Some showed more bravery hitting top speeds than others. The newly minted speed demons made new friends out of old friends.

Then Parents Got Involved, Just Not My Parents

My parents were not ‘helicopter parents.’ The term didn’t exist in the 60’s. The only helicopters anyone heard about were in Vietnam.

Mine were ‘streetlight parents.’ When the street lights came on it was time to go home. Since we had a hill, we were never too far away. The other calling signal was my dad whistling through his teeth. We could hear that two blocks away and usually came running.

With the new asphalt on the hill, kids from down the street started showing up. Then kids from other streets.

They rode bikes but admired our coaster.

In the middle of summer a kid showed up with a new kind of coaster, one with a steering wheel and brakes. It was so advanced it made ours an instant relic. Our era of the cool coaster was over.

The new one had features no kid could build, but we didn’t ask our dad for help. Besides, the other kid shared his ride, and it was fast. In a race between the two, the new one crossed the finish line while ours was only halfway down the hill.

The new coaster had a 2X12 chassis, wagon wheels, and a covered body like a soapbox derby ride.

He was a nice kid and fit right into the hill squad. But that didn’t last.

Needing More Competition

A couple of week after the new coaster showed up another arrived on the scene. It wasn’t an improvement on the other model except for the wheels. Ball bearing bike wheels made the difference.

Kids from a house on the corner brought it up and smashed all the records. To make it worse, they trash talked more than they should have, making fun of our crude coaster like we didn’t belong on the same street.

They won every race and taunted us with doing the ‘suckers walk because you suck.’

We accepted it because they were the winners. The problem wasn’t losing, but that no one was allowed to ride their coaster.

One friend from a few streets over showed up to ride the hill. He drove our coaster and the faster coaster, then raced the kids from down the street. And lost.

They taunted him the same way they taunted everyone. We took it, he didn’t.

“Why won’t they let me ride their coaster.”

“Because they’re jerks.”

“That’s not right.”

“No it’s not, especially on our hill out in front of our house.”

“We’ll see.”

The rest of us were accepting, he was needing more. And he had older brothers with ideas.

When The Lights Go Down

One evening after the street light came on, he didn’t go home. He did’t have the same curfew.

“Let’s fix those guys,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I brought a tool with me. It’s over in the blackberries.”

He walked over and came back with a hammer.

“Don’t you need a screwdriver or a wrench?”

“I saw where they park their coaster. Follow me.”

We walked down the street while he carried the hammer in a stiff arm near his side.

“What are we going to do?”

“It’s in their garage. We’re going to take it or a ride and bring it back.”

We snuck into the garage under the kitchen window and rolled the coaster out and down to the woods where he pounded the bike wheels so bad we could hardly roll it back.

We went home afterwards.

The next day those kids came to the hill angry. They wanted someone to blame. Blame for what? My pal wasn’t there and I kept quiet.

They wanted us to share our coasters. We didn’t. They wanted to race, but couldn’t. Where’s your race car? It’s broken. Why did you break it? We didn’t, someone else did. Who? We don’t know.

Their dad talked to my dad, then my dad talked to me.

“Did you do this? Did you break their coaster?”

No.

“Do you know who did?”

“Those kids were mean and said we were no good and couldn’t make anything as good as they had.”

“Do you know who broke their coaster?”

“I’ll ask my friends.”

“They’ll know.”

“Maybe it was the dad of the other coaster?”

“Let me know what you finds out.”

This many years later it’s still a big mystery.

From Needing More To Getting More

The lessons I gleaned from living on a newly paved hill are many.

Don’t ride a skateboard into a mirror for starters.

Be humble in victory was another.

I still feel bad about not telling my dad the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I wasn’t going to give up another kid where my dad would have to talk to his dad.

One of us was needing more guidance and I felt like I already had enough to share.

Isn’t that how we learn? Word of mouth? I told the other kid about my dad’s questions so he would be ready.

“Ready for what?” he asked.

“In case your dad finds out.”

“How would he find out if I don’t tell him and you’re the only other one who knows?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Good, because the hammer works both ways?”

That’s when I saw him in a new light and I wasn’t needing more.