I was going to move on from the theme of my recent blogs (reminiscences on earlier times). But then I had my most recent visit to the dermatologist yesterday. They dream of customers like me … those who provide a continuous source of high-cost work on patients with good health insurance.

Observing the scar from yesterday’s cutting and hacking at yet another bout of basal cell carcinoma (see photo anove), I mused on what got me to this sad 😔 point in life. Essentially, I am paying the price of the many good times that were enjoyed in my misspent youth. Back in the 1950s and 60s, no one told us that worshipping the sun was a bad thing. In fact, a tan was seen as a sign of robust health back in those days.

In that innocent time, few were aware that an excess exposure to the sun eventually would result in cancerous growths on the surface of one’s body. Nor did anyone mention that some forms of surface carcinoma might spread throughout the body in lethal ways. We are not simply talking aesthetics here. We are possibly talking life and death. However, we were ignorant of such consequences at the time.

So, we spent hours at the beach, on the golf course, and playing all forms of outdoor games. At best, we would rub on baby oil, which did nothing for you except provide a false sense of security. Well, it did serve a useful purpose if you were permitted to rub the oil on a girlfriend’s body, assuming you had one of these rare treasures. I was not so blessed. Hell, I could only dream of being so lucky. 😪

And yet, while I complain about the sins of my youth that ultimately led to numerous trips of late to the horror chamber known as my dermatologist’s office, I have few regrets. I watch today’s youth. They appear totally engrossed in virtual cyber worlds and thus full of crushing anxieties and debillitating neuroses. My peers and I, in hindsight, were much blessed. We came of age in a simpler time where we enjoyed the outdoors and, shockingly, one another’s company (at least for the most part).

On days not in school, my parents would kick me out of the house, usually telling me not to come home until the street lights came on, or supper was ready … especially in the longer days of midsummer 🙃. We would go marauding through the streets while playing endless games of war, or cowboys and Indians, or brave astronauts exploring mysterious worlds, and other like adventurous diversions. Or, we made up simple athletic games that could be played in the streets. One involved a tennis ball and any available steps. By angling the ball correctly off the edge of a designated step, you could simulate a primitive baseball game ⚾️. It was all a matter of using your imagination. If you did that in creative ways, boredom was never an issue.

As we aged a bit, we would migrate to the local park, a 75 acre wonderland of baseball diamonds, tennis courts 🎾, and basketball arenas 🏀. Admittedly, the tennis courts were never employed for their designated purpose. They were perfect for another form of baseball called stick ball, a game played with a tennis ball and sawed off broom stick. There always seemed to be an endless supply of other kids who were available for chance games of athletic competition absent adult supervision. We interacted among ourselves and created our own world of fun. Today, I walk through parks with not a kid is to be seen, unless with an adult or participating in some formal program.

Yes, there was a structured Little League organization but that was a small part of our world. Our parents were not driving us to endless organized and over-regulated events. We were responsible for our own fun 😁 . We relied upon our own ingenuity and worked out patterns of collaboration and dispute resolution without adult oversight. As a result, we advanced rapidly toward adulthood with initiative and some confidence. Okay, it was disheartening to be selected by one of the team captains (the best athletes available) after the kid in the wheelchair but I would eventually recover.

Still later, I took up golf. As I mentioned, my parents drove me nowhere. So, I would heft my clubs over my shoulder and walk several miles to the nearest course, then play 27 (or perhaps 36) holes. And get this, the final mile of the hike to get there was straight uphill. At the end of this sun-drenched day, I would hike back home. You could play all day for one dollar. I could have been kidnapped and taken three states away before anyone would notice I was missing. But no one seemed concerned back then. Perhaps my folks were hoping a miscreant would abscond with me. But they were out of luck. Apparently, no one wanted me.

In my later teens, we might avail ourselves of vehicular transportation. We would borrow someone’s car from their parent (none of us teens had our own car). Then, we would drive to Cape Cod for golf and then some time laying about in the sun, perhaps hoping against hope of coming across some desperate girls with low self-esteem who might not find us totally repulsive. No luck there 😞. It seems that our fortunes on the course and in romance were equally dismal.

If there were a common denominator to all this, we were outside a lot. We were not attached to computer screens or smart phones. Rather, we were exposed to endless hours in the hot sun. My fate as a future dermatologist’s dream was likely set by the time I turned 24, helped along by spending 2 years in a Rajasthani desert in northwestern India. Now, that was a hot and sun-drenched place. My skin damage likely had already been done by my mid-20s.

Yet, all of life is a balance of tough choices. I could have stayed inside more as a kid and young man. But would I have exercised my imagination as much? Would I have developed the interpersonal skills so essential to later adulthood? Would I have toughened myself in endless competitions with my peers? I doubt it. So, maybe a little hacking and cutting in old age is a small price to pay for such a productive and adventurous youth. I tend to think so.

Then again, I am not totally certain of that. I have yet to experience the full measure of the penance I must pay for my exuberant youth. Time will tell if there is more pain to be exacted for my early sins.