Once upon a time, young boys would find sticks and make toys out of them. A stick could be turned into a riding horse, a rifle, or a sword. The only limiting factor was our imagination.
Once we became a little older, maybe Grandpa would give us a jackknife. Then we would scrape the bark off the stick and be riding a shiny Palomino pony. If we were really lucky, some adult would find an old bicycle inner tube and then we had a saddle and reins for our horse.
A switch: A switch was bad news. We were ordered to go fetch a switch with which an adult would apply to our backsides for some indiscretion that we had done. All the while that we fetched the stick, we knew what we had done wrong. Didn't matter. We thought about the error in our ways,fetched the stick, and had it applied. It also didn't matter who the adult was. Uncle,Aunt,Grandmother,Mother or father they all had the authority to tell us to fetch the switch and then we got switched on our legs once or twice for our misdeed.
I miss the old days.



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