The grass on the knoll behind The Fab Four’s house may not have long for this world, but that’s a good thing, in my book. It shows that Melissa and Skip have their priorities straight.
Oh, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t as green as anybody else on the block: They recycle and conserve whenever possible. But with rambunctious lads of 7, 5 and 2-3, they know it’s important to get outside and exercise and just be boys. (By the way, the 2-3 age is Luke’s reaction to his recent third birthday — could be his feminine side just won’t let him let go of his youth, so he says he’s two-three.)
That exercise is good for building strong bodies eight ways, as Wonder Bread used to trumpet. If that jolts people who thought it’s TWELVE ways, here’s some Wonderful history: In the 1950s, Wonder was one of the sponsors of “Howdy Doody,” which used to start the show with Buffalo Bob posing this question to the kids in the Peanut Gallery: “Hey, kids, what time is it?”
Well, let’s check vintage footage:
Bob seemed to try to buffalo the kids because he quizzed them on nutrition, too, before answering: "Wonder Bread builds strong bodies eight ways. Look for the red, yellow and blue balloons printed on the wrapper.”
Within a decade, though, the company had expanded its nutritional hype to 12 ways. I’m not sure how many ways it builds strong bodies these days, but it’s still got red, yellow and blue balloons.
I tried to find footage of Buffalo in a Wonder commercial, but the closest I came was a Tootsie Roll Pop commercial. I’ll justify using it here because Tootsie Rolls are one of Luke’s favorite candies, and he’ll eat a Pop, too, if you twist his arm.
I guess I Grandpa got nostalgic ’bout the good old days because watching the boys slide down that hill with wagons and skateboards today, trampling down the St. Augustine, reminded me of the days when Grandad was a lad.
Our P.F. Flyers wore base paths in that grass, which took years to recover into a respectable lawn, after we had grown enough to need full-sized diamonds. But that’s because my dad figured it was more important to let us play our daily baseball games than to cultivate a lawn like the neighbors.
In OUR case, it was really a hoot, because that family really did have the nicest lawn on our side of the tracks, and even the three girls who lived there weren’t allowed to set foot on the lawn. The dad even roped it off so nobody would walk on his precious Kentucky Blue.
So those girls, along with every other kid in the neighborhood, played in our yard, although we occasionally ventured to the vacant lot across the street, too.
As an aside (this whole column is turning into an aside), I didn’t know ’til just now that the P.F. stood for Posture Foundation. I guess P.F. Flyers didn’t work as well when we got to our teenage slouch years, eh?
Back in the day, when the garage was our backstop, which is why the siding cracked, we’d really have to wallop a ball to make it reach the bushes out by the sidewalk. One OVER the bushes was a home run. Seemed like a HUGE yard back then, but now, it seems like a postage stamp.
Anyway, back to the point: The grass on the The Fab Four’s knoll will sacrifice its life in the interests of youthful energy and playfulness, just as the grass under the swing set has, and the blades that gave up their ghosts soon after the sandbox was installed.
As I said, the kids’ playing is the proper priority. They’ll have fond memories of acts of derring do and tree climbing long after they’ve moved on to adulthood. Then the grass will get a second lease on life,
Some day, soon, when baby Patrick joins the back-yard hooligans, I wouldn’t be surprised if he told his brothers they have some ’splainin’ to do about where all the grass went before he got a chance to make his dent in the earth.
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