Little Grown-Ups…

my life as a Gen X kid…

This song has the “F” word in it… only once… in one line… so you may not want to listen… if it may offend you… 👇

I was born in September of  73`… a Gen X kid…
when I look back now… I realize things…

Yeah maybe I was doing stuff early on that probably could have waited until I was an adult…

but life was different back then…

the world was wider… lighter… rawer… simpler… all at once…

And us kids…

we were all little grown-ups…

From the time I was about eight until I was fourteen…

life couldn’t have been much better…

I grew up in a fairly large community of side by side houses… side by side families…
where everybody knew everybody…
neighbors didn’t just nod — they shared life…
they borrowed sugar…
they brought each other meals…
they sat in yards and talked about real things…
hearts… stories… struggles… faith… loss… laughter…

It wasn’t perfect —
but man… it was real…

My great-grandfather lived with us in those days…

he was one of a kind…

old as dirt… tougher than leather… stubborn as wet cement…

he had lived much…
And he never ran out of stories…

He’d sit outside every day… in this beat up old folding chair…

And half the time.. I’d pull another chair beside him… and just listen…

He was a war veteran — A Purple Heart… other medals he earned through blood and grit…

Infantry…
France…
WW2…

he’d tell me stories of laughing under fire… marching… waiting… freezing… fighting… barely surviving…

And I’d pepper him with a thousand questions… because I couldn’t get enough…

Later.. I found out from my grandmother…
that he had taken many lives in battle…
those stories… he never told…
those belonged to him… and God alone…

What I did see…
was a man who had walked through hell…

And somehow came back kinder…
tougher…

And still able to laugh a little…
And love a lot…

And without making speeches…
without preaching a word…

he was shaping the boy sitting beside him…

In those days…
my parents worked…

so most times I had to fend for myself…

I had a house key… freedom… responsibility…

but there were rules…

Do the right thing when nobody is watching…

Be  about character…
Be about integrity…

Be about it…

Be a decent human being…

And oh yeah…
be home by dark…

On the edge of our community…
the world exploded into a massive forest
deep woods stretching for miles…
thousands of acres…
trees… creeks… hidden lakes… trails… wildlife…

a giant playground for kids who hadn’t yet learned to be afraid of living…

I spent countless days exploring those woods…

fishing…
riding dirt bikes…
shooting guns…

no supervision… no phones… just trust…

Sometimes on Saturdays I’d wake up before the sun…
pack myself a sack lunch and some drinks…
grab my fishing poles and tackle box…
strap it all to the back of my dirt bike…
And disappear into the woods…

All… day… long…

Sometimes friends came along…
sometimes it was just me and the world —
And honestly… those were some of the best days…

Many mornings my great-grandfather would stop me before I left…
hand me his old .22 pistol in a worn leather holster…
And tell me to take it “for protection”…
because us kids needed guns back then haha…
we learned early… how to treat and respect a firearm…
it was a great privilege… responsibility… And it was ours…

I’d strap it to my waist like a cowboy…
fire up that dirt bike…
And ride off into the blue…

Freedom…
Adventure…
Responsibility…
Trust…

A childhood that felt like life training…

And I am grateful… deeply grateful…

Those years shaped me…
they toughened me…
they softened me…
they taught me courage… solitude… resourcefulness… respect… curiosity… wonder… independence…

I didn’t know it then…

but those were Holy days…

And I am thankful I grew up when I did…

in a world… full… of little grown-ups…

`’x.~¡-^;‐

Also… my great-grandfather’s middle name and mine… are the same… Loia… pronounced Loy like Joy…

I forgot to mention my dog… Buck… he was there too… he didn’t live inside a fence… he never knew a leash… he was free to roam… just like me… he followed me everywhere… he loved to swim… while I fished…

I’m the blood on your guitar… I’m that wave You caught back in 1975…

© Bryan H. 2025 — All Rights Reserved

`’.,°~