Summer for us as kids traditionally lasted about ten weeks, from the middle
of June until Labor Day. For those ten glorious weeks we were kids, until our
first jobs at age 16, the legal limit in New Jersey. It meant sleeping in,
staying up late, sitting under street lights telling ghost stories, a daily trip
to the Sweet Shoppe for your candy refill, and where do I ride my bike today?
It was a time of freedom, maybe a yard to cut or help your Dad wash the Rambler,
but it was freedom from books, teachers, schedules, and homework. Your time was
your own, depending on who you hung out with and what they wanted to do, but you
could always say no and go your own way. Which was rare, because the times you
did, something cool or fun would happen and you would be the only one that
missed it. So hanging with the group it was...
Summers are hot and sticky in Jersey, and without houses having AC, we were
out all the time. We didn’t know it was hot, we were kids having fun, we had no
bottled water, no i-phones, and we hadn’t discovered girls yet, so the fun to be
had was unlimited. Play all the kickball you wanted, build the new tree fort
you had been talking about, or hang out at the park, under supervision. But in
our neighborhood, it was tree forts, and all the kids who could hold a hammer,
no matter what age, participated. And with the new housing developments going
in where the woods used to be, we found free wood laying on the ground, we had
the younger ones pick up the nails, and made numerous trips after the
construction day was done. We only returned home for supper, would miss lunch,
maybe make a run for chips or Good Humor, but the day at our personal
construction site dominated. With one particular tree house that stood out
from all others....
It is a skill to build a tree house, finding the right trees and their
arrangement makes all the difference. And we found three trees, and changed our
standard box to a triangle, the trees so perfect that each kid had a floor of
his own, or paired up with another. We learned so much in building our own
forts, and we would need all of it this supreme effort. It took a week,
sourcing the right wood, picking up the nails, and battling the heat and rain,
but soon we were done, a sight to behold. I was lucky to pair up with Kenny, he
was 16 to my 9, and we had the top floor, and his fort building was without
compare. Seems older kids know more about these things, and our floor was all
the talk. We had arranged for the lower floors to have crawl spaces at
alternating corners, and you entered your level through them, and soon the fort
was full of interior decorating, and filled with Archie comics and flashlight to
read them by. Ghost stories would be told, the Betty or Veronica debate would
ensue, and discussions of our next teacher, who had the best bike, a rumor of
candy going from 5 cents to six, and the older guys talking girls-YUK! But in
every neighborhood, there is one kid who is different, the butt of jokes, and he
comes by it honestly. We weren’t nasty, but kids got reputations based on dumb
things they did, and one kid, who we called Carm Booby was about to go down in
Algonquin Drive history.
Carm was older, was fat, and bullied some of us younger kids. Think of
Lumpy Rutherford, that was Carm. He didn’t play sports, he harassed some of us,
but had one quality that made us avoid him altogether, he stunk. His BO was so
bad it preceded him, he smelled something between bad pizza, a cat box, and an
old locker in gym class. World class BO, and he enjoyed it. And because he
wasn’t invited to build a floor in the tree house, he was upset. And wanted to
visit....and chose a time when most of us were at home, I say most, as Kenny and
I were in our top floor penthouse. When we smelled the smell, and heard the
grunting, we knew, and there was no way out. Carm was in the house...and as he
squeezed his fat BO riddled body through the crawl spaces, the odor got worse,
and we were trapped. Even if we could get past him, which we couldn’t, the
smell would have killed us, I was to young to die at age 9! And as the odor
became overwhelming, his head, then his upper body appeared in our crawl space,
and as he tried to wiggle through, we were cursing him, and begging him to go
back, and then it happened. He got stuck! Only his arms, and from the chest up
were exposed, but that was enough to almost kill us with the smell. He was
stuck, we all were stuck, and we had no way out. Who to call, who would
answer? And if they heard us, would Carm’s BO foil any rescue attempts? I
wanted to go home, and wanted to cry, more from the smell than from the fear,
and the picture of a stuck Carm still haunts my memories. Trapped....
Until Kenny pulled out a hammer, and starting taking off the roof. As
sunlight peeked through, so did fresh air, and soon the roof was off, we could
see blue sky, but what to do with Carm? We could climb down the trees outside,
he was still stuck. And then it struck us, we had to free him, no matter how
disgusting he was, or what it meant to our fort. The roof already gone, we
started to claw away at the floor around him, until he could wiggle free, and we
watched from above as he finally made his way out. And a breeze of fresh
non-Carmetized air recussitated us. In a short few minutes, Carm had
successfully destroyed our fort, one which none of would ever return too. Our
work was over, it was ruined, and the legend of Carm grew, who we never saw
again, as the school year started next week, Labor Day weekend, then back to
school. Where homework, would fill the void Carm created in our summer, he was
in junior high, and soon we would be onto other things. But every time I smell
bad salami, a cat box, the kid who needs his diaper changed, or a chicken farm,
I think of Carm. Not the way we wanted our summer to end....taken out by one
kid, with no shots fired.
As kids we had prided ourselves on being kids, and when in trouble, there
was nothing our dad couldn’t get us out of...until we got home. Rome at the
time of Paul was without peer, maybe the most sophisticated and successful
society until that time. There was nothing they thought they couldn’t get out
of. They had military power conquering any who stood in their way. They built
series of roads to travel through their empire, and devised aquaducts to carry
water to homes. They had great lawmakers and statesmen, great artists and
sculpturers, they could write and create art. They had power in and over
society, with one exception, they couldn’t tame or change the heart. They
couldn’t legislate morality, men’s hearts were still evil, and they couldn’t end
slavery, both physical and mental. They tolerated the Jews, and Paul wrote them
from prison, sharing the gospel, telling of a power they didn’t have, that could
only be found through Jesus Christ. A power that exposed sin, but provided
righteousness, forgiveness, and an offer of eternal life. Things their superior
government couldn’t do, the biggest one, changing the hearts of men. They were
powerless, until Paul pointed out the gospel, and how it had the power to change
things they couldn’t and we still can’t today. It is the spirit that gives
life, and all the king’s horse, with all the king’s men, had no power compared
to it. It promised a power that could not be bought, conquered, bartered for,
or legislated. It was based on love, God’s love for us through his son Jesus.
And Paul was both anxious and proud of the gospel, the power to change men’s
hearts and lives, to make us righteous and acceptable to God, just as we are.
By the spirit, without firing a shot. He told of a righteousness from faith,
and that faith is only the beginning, not the end or a one time occurrence. How
we are accepted by him in love, and every time we encounter trials, that same
faith is there to see us through. He loves us as we are, he just doesn’t want
to leave us that way. The gospel reminds us of Jesus, how it is open to all,
and restores us to God. Even guys like Carm.
Taking off the roof to escape ruined all of our building. The fort was
never the same. God’s escape route in Jesus is different for each of us, with
the same results, salvation. And like our fort, you will never be the same, and
you go on to other things. Leaving the things of youth behind, but not the
memories, for in the memories are the basis for testimony, the starting point
from which we come. The end which we will never see. Eternity doesn’t end like
summer does at Labor Day, it goes on and on....in the gospel of Jesus Christ, of
which Paul wasn’t and we should not be ashamed of. We hated Carm for who he
was, and what he did to our fort, but didn’t leave him behind. Jesus went back
for the one in 99...for you. And if you were the only sinner, he would have
died for you. That’s love, that’s the gospel. Simple enough so we can get it
and relate it to the things of life, which was why Jesus taught in parables,
nothing hidden from us. And free, so we can afford it, and unlike the wood and
nails we scavenged for, it is right here, right now. Today could be your day of
salvation, you cold be stuck like Carm was, with now way out, and Jesus is
offering the way? It might change your lifestyle, your attitude, and friends,
but it brings righteousness. Are you up to the task? He is!
For I am not ashamed of the gospel, good news to Jew and Gentile, kid and
adult alike. Even the kids who get stuck in your crawl space and ruin your
plans. God loves them too....can you?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com