Behold, Excalibur!

Things were a little more physical when I was a kid.

What I mean is that it seemed like we played harder, got dirtier, and somehow survived all the bumps and bruises from roughhousing back then.

Parents were more physical in disciplining their kids as they often engaged in smacking or spanking their children when they got out of line. I’m not saying this was right but that was the norm in my youth.

So you learned to be respectful, do what you were told and if you were lucky were “allowed”  to go out and play with your friends – under the condition you’d be home in time for dinner.

Invariably playtime games would take on a Lord of the Flies-like scenario (minus the eating part) where the weakest was often singled out and picked on until about suppertime. Then it was quitting time and we all went home as darkness fell, only to do it all over again the next day.

Agility, being able to duck fast and one’s speed (to run like hell) were necessary survival skills if you wanted to make it home unscathed.

If you got hot and thirsty, drinking out of garden hose or public water fountain was just fine. Hell we even played in reeking open storm sewers looking for tadpoles – as no one worried or gave a shit about germs then.

But let me digress a little bit from the perils of kiddom, as all of this reminds me about how I once had a wooden sword I called Excalibur.

Its crafting was inspired by one of my childhood friends, Bobby Bergmann, who had briefly been a rival of mine in the affections of my grade school amorata, Becky Berry.

Ah, Becky – bespectacled, freckled, with full-on braces and kinky mud-colored hair. She was regarded as a goddess amongst us poor mortals in fifth grade at Louise Van Meter Elementary as rumor had it that she had begun to wear a training bra that year.

Our rivalry was brief, but fierce and brought quickly to an end one day during lunch recess when Becky told us with a dismissive sniff that she wasn’t interested in being anyone’s girlfriend. 

Bobby: “But why not?”

Becky: “Cause I don’t want to.  And if I did it wouldn’t be with either one of you.”

Bobby: “Why?”

Becky: “Look Bobby you have buck teeth, smell funny, and probably have cooties.”

Me: “Whadda about me?”

Becky: “Charlie you’re fat, kinda weird and you definitely have cooties!”

Both of us: (Outraged) COOTIES?! WE DON’T HAVE COOTIES!”

Becky: (walking away) “Just leave me alone you two!”

Well, this was a crushing blow to our little egos, to say the least.

And so Bobby and I decided to become best friends  After all, we had both been unlucky at love and it was time to salvage what we could in our mutual heartbreak.

We ended up spending a lot of time together, often playing with the other kids in the neighborhood after school. Children who didn’t mind if we smelled funny or were morbidly overweight.

One of our favorite games was pretending to be Knights of the Round Table. The game involved saving as many ladies in distress and putting them in a safe area, which was usually up in a tree or behind a bush. The winner of the contest was the one who ended up rescuing the most princesses. Often we were short on “damsels” so younger kids often had to be bullied into the parts – which they played with not much enthusiasm. 

One time after we finished the game and had gone home it was discovered that one of our princesses was still stuck in a tree! After that, we  (under blackmail and threats) had to refer to her as Queen whenever she played Knights with us – which we begrudgingly did even though we thought it was pretty stupid.

I remember the day that Bobby showed up to the game carrying a huge two-by-four that he had fashioned into a sword. My poor little tree branch was quickly demolished in a traditional mock battle and Bobby went on to take the day in that day’s epic contest.

Vowing revenge, I promptly bribed (with a shitload of purloined candy from home) my neighbor, Howie Osterfeld, to make me a three foot wooden sword out of a plank of redwood lumber he found at his Dad’s construction site. 

It actually turned out great! 

Upon receipt of my sword, I proudly dubbed it ‘Excalibur’ Defender of the Righteous! I even took some red crayon and drew a bunch of crimson color on the sword’s edges just to give an impression of dried blood.

Bobby had no idea I had upgraded to a superior weapon as I had hid my sword behind  a bush and was carrying my traditional broken branch when we started to play the following day.

Bobby: “Surrender, Sir Charles and hand over the two princesses you have rescued.”

Me: “Nay, Black Robert. You must fight me to the death!”

Bobby: “Gwan Charlie, you don’t stand a chance with that stupid stick.”

Me: (tossing the branch aside) “That is not my weapon. This is! BEHOLD EXCALIBUR!!”

I picked up Excalibur and with a dramatic  two handed swing raised it over my head – only to see the blade detach itself from the handle and fly off into some nearby blackberry bushes.

Me: “Oh, shit…”

Bobby immediately burst out into peals laughter while I did my best trying to not blubber over this horrible twist of fate.

But being a good friend that he was, he helped me find my broken sword. Then we took off to show it to his older brother, Tom to see if he could fix it.

Upon examination Tom explained to me that the glue had not been strong enough to maintain its grip on the hilt. So he sawed my broadsword down and nailed it to the hilt. 

Yessiree Bob, I was back in the game in no time!

Just in case you’re curious I didn’t win that day…or any following matches.

It’s hard to win a sword fight with just a six inch blade.