The Democracy of The Bottle Cap Kids

Back in the day, thirty, no forty? years ago, the world was a different place. The way we lived, the way we thought, was different. Or was it?
In light, or{dark}, of all the political debates and ever rising angst and conflict, this memory recently surfaced in my mind, prompted by noticing an old bottle cap imbedded in the dirt, on the side of the road, one day while walking the dogs.
This is based on a true story.

I remember my back yard as being a vast expanse of meadows and woods, with paths and trails, and adventure waiting to happen. Way out back, there rose a large tree, right in the middle of the property- a   tree that called out to children to come and play in its branches. And so it was, that for one or two  or three years, this great tree became the center for not only me and my siblings, but for all neighborhood children.

It must have been my dad, with help maybe from his neighbor pals, Bob and Freddy, that built the tree house in this magnificent tree. Ah, such a child's dream! I remember looking out to the tree house, while quickly finishing my breakfast, unable to contain my excitement of another day out in the wild.
Those were the days when we would break free from the confines of our homes mid- morning, and not return until it was dark, or we heard the sound of the dinner bell. Including my siblings and myself, there were probably 12 to 15 of us in total- more, if I include the older girls who babysat us. We were living the dream, in our empire of imagination and creativity. Freedom and Expression reigned.

Those were also the days when a big adventure would be getting to walk up to the end of the street to the corner gas station and buy a soda out of the machine. The bottles were glass, and had cool, or what we thought were cool, bottle caps.  And so it came to be, through the direction of our oldest neighborhood gang member, that in order to be admitted into the tree house, we would have to present a bottle cap. These bottle caps were purposefully pushed into the wood walls of our club house to create a colorful mosaic. Sometimes, the caps would not easily go in, and then Stevie, being the oldest, would use a hammer to pound them in. An understanding developed that we were not to use the hammer, { probably coming from the top- our parents} and that Stevie was responsible. Made sense to us. We had no troubles following Stevie. He naturally took a leadership role, and we were fine with it. We still got to vote when it came down to important decisions, like what our club name was going to be. We finally settled on "The Bottle Cap Kids".
Actually, Maybe Stevie came up with it and we went along- I am not sure.

So , The Bottle Cap Kids met all the time. We had great times. Not sure what we actually did- I don't remember, but I remember how I felt. I was happy, inspired, protected- I belonged. We had friends, fun, a place to gather, a place to explore and play.
I also remember not being so crazy about some of the rules Stevie put in place, but it was okay. We outnumbered him and usually got our way. He was not always there anyway, so that small groups of us younger kids could play the games we wanted. Stevie's brother, Michael was very imaginative, and would set up all kinds of wonderful ways to spend our days.

There were a few kids that were not part of our immediate group- they lived too far on the outskirts of our designated roaming area. Frannie T. was one of those kids. He lived way down by the school.
{ upon traveling back to my home town as an adult, I was amazed that " way down by the school" was only a 4 minute walk.}
Frannie was probably a year younger than Stevie- maybe they were the same age. He was blonde haired and blue eyed, and Cool, and one day decided to pay us a visit.

Stevie wasn't around for a few days. Perhaps he had begun team sports and was too busy elsewhere, but whatever the case, we happily brought Frannie into the club. And he didn't even require a bottle cap. In Fact, with Frannie around, none of us required a bottle cap to get in. Frannie had some grand ideas, and Frannie was a flirt.

By the time Stevie landed back in to check in on The Bottle Cap Kids, I was prepared to follow Frannie anywhere.

And so it began. Stevie contested that we could no longer call ourselves The Bottle Cap Kids if we didnt even use bottle caps. Frannie responded that there was no more room for bottle caps anyway, and Jeez, let's come up with a better name! If we were going to do this fair and square, we would have to put this issue to a vote.

" Okay. One week from today, we all meet here and vote. My way, or Frannie's." stated Stevie.

 The campaigning began, and the neighborhood atmosphere changed. There was less play and more concentrated effort to get your guy to win. Michael, of course was gathering votes for his brother, and I became the spokesperson for the forever Frannie Club. This put me at odds with Michael, my best friend, but it seemed okay to me. It seemed quite important. We began to forget what we were actually disputing, and became caught up in the rush of making our point and bringing "our side" to victory.

On VOTING DAY, emotions had escalated. We were all preparing for the big event. We were all banking on our constituents to come through. We wolfed down our breakfast, and sped through the chores. My siblings and I were just about to bust out the back door, when my mother's voice called from the kitchen.

" No Tree House Today."
What?????  MAUMMMM NO! You don't understand!!!!!

" This whole tree house thing has gotten out of hand. Every single one of you is bickering and miserable. Dougy's Mother called me this morning and he pushed his little sister down because of some  kind of vote going on today. Well, there will be none of that. Besides, school is starting and we have things to do." Mom had spoken.

The tree house stood silent for awhile. The trails gathered leaves, and the hush of the wind blew through the meadow. The parents began their own campaign of teaching their children compassion and the value of friendship and being a part of a community- helping one another ; how to discern what is important; moving away from situations that cause anger and hatred and work towards a common ground based on values of honesty, trust, respect and honor. Basically, we were all grounded.

Some amount of time passed- how much I do not recall-  I found Michael alone in the tree house, and sat next to him. We decided we didn't really care about the bottle cap dispute. We both apologized, as we picked up the fallen bottle caps off the floor. When we heard chatter, we peered over the sides of the tree house to see the Giles kids from down the street running through the meadow. Just as they climbed to the top of the tree house stairs, we heard my siblings making their way across the field to the tree. Then the Marshall kids and the Mullens. Suddenly all was forgotten and we cheered and laughed; jumped and played.
And when Stevie slowly climbed the tree, we all were genuinely happy to see him.

On this day, we changed our ways of thinking and doing. We decided on a council- the four oldest would be responsible and everyone was involved in the process. We even came up with a grievance committee { me} to whom we would go to with any issues. In the end, we did not want to be banned from the tree house. We needed to protect our empire of imagination and play, and the only way to do this was through team work. And when Frannie came around again, he was less about being the leader and more about just being there.

When summer came around again, both Stevie and Frannie had come of an age where tree houses and play had little place in their activities, and we rarely saw either of them. As time passed, we too moved away from the tree house and into other activities. We had grown up a little that one summer, and learned some valuable lessons through our intro to politics experience.

Today there are few children in the neighborhood. My parents sold the house and moved to the Cape; others moved away or passed on. There are more houses, more cars, more. The corner gas station is now a larger service station. The tree still stands tall, although the tree house has long been torn down, and the wind still carries the notes of laughter that once were.  Ironic perhaps, Stevie built a home in back of the tree and the meadow and lives there still with his family, for, as much as things change, they also remain the same. Long live The Bottle Cap Kids.

Fifty Shades of Grey.

This book has become a phenomenon. One can hardly go anywhere without seeing someone reading it, carrying it, or buying it. I heard about it some time ago, when someone referenced it as a sex novel and that she could not put the book down. Hmmm. not particularly interested.
And then I began to hear more about it- women almost blushing and hushing as they admitted that they have read it.
I have this thing about NOT reading what everyone else is reading. I do not know why, I guess I just don't want to be reading what everyone else is- who knows. I resisted Hunger Games for quite some time until one of my daughters, who does not usually enjoy reading, declared that it is  MUST READ. Ah yes, I read it, and became hooked, like everyone else.

Similarly, one of my daughters, the one that is an avid reader, came home for the weekend with Fifty Shades in hand, and proceeded to lay on the couch to read.
" It's not that good, Mom", she said as she continued to read.
" I mean, it's ok- I need to keep reading to find out about Christian." and she continued to read.
" It's really about the relationship." she would say as she proceeded to finish the book and leave it on the coffee table.

I would pass the coffee table and look at it. Nope. Not tapping into this.
Then, one night, the book I was reading, about Sacred Sights on the planet just wasn't keeping my attention, and I picked up Fifty Shades and crawled into bed to see what all the hoopla was about.

Okay. So, besides the shock factor effect from the sex scenes,  and the intrigue of the relationship, I , always the sociologist, was very intrigued about just what it was about this book that had every other woman so enthralled.
There was an underlying feel that was disturbing to me- perhaps, I thought, because I have experienced relationships marked with elements of psychosis.... do other people feel like this, I thought?

The sex became kind of secondary to a theme that must ring true in many womens' lives:
The power struggle in relationships.   In the book, the male dominance is portrayed in the extreme sense, but we all have experienced dominant/submissive in some degree in our relations with family, friends and lovers.
On a bigger scale, the power struggle between masculine and feminine in society, in the world, and in our very own selves is a balance that we as humans strive to achieve.
As we explore the polarities within ourselves, we find our dark shadow self- the stuff we just do not like, and the lighter, higher vibrational self, aligned with what feels good and what our purpose here is.
We come upon our " darker" selves in our relationships so that we can explore, and heal, and help the other in their exploration and healing.
Sometimes this is awful. Sometimes it rocks us and we are hurt and devastated and move on. Or stay in it. Sometimes we work through it, discovering our own inner power and allowing the other to discover theirs. Sometimes this means staying together, sometimes it means going separate ways.

In any case, the mirroring effect does just what a mirror does: you get to take  a look at yourself- all the " good", and all the "bad".

What you see depends on your perspective.

And, in the book, we have the opportunity to  resonate with the strengths within ourselves, as we read about a strong willed, principled woman of integrity who falters, who battles the demons in her head- who observes the goddess part of her and the subconscious part, and follows her heart.

As for the sex, which is what most people/ women are talking about? Well, perhaps this opens an opportunity, in  the privacy of our own reading space, to validate that women are indeed sexual, sensual creatures. Note:  She has no children, dogs, cats, etc etc.... but the youthfulness, the excitement, the pure visceral feelings, must live , even if dormant, within women. To find a balance, to honor that side of us, while maintaining everyday living seems exhausting, if not impossible.

Hence, these books disappear off the shelves as fast as they are stacked in.

I am not saying you should go out and buy it and read it { hey many women have the series- you can borrow.} I know many many women who have no interest at all. Personally I have not read book two or three, perhaps I will not, but I was compelled to write some thoughts.

Besides,  don't we all want to see the "good girl win" ?