Folly is bound up in the heart of a child,
but the rod of discipline will drive it far away.
—Proverbs 22:15
“It’s too early in the morning for AC/DC!” my father yelled over his nephew’s poor choice of song. Playful scolds like these were often dished out during long car rides with rambunctious teens.
He was right, of course, being 6 a.m. and all. The only reason to play that kind of music at that kind of volume at that kind of hour was just to get a rise out of the old man.
These are the memories etched in my brain from youth: the silly, the nonsensical, the borderline insane. Today, I’m more likely to be the one dialing down the AC/DC and leaning toward the brink of sanity.
In the recess age of life, I can recall seeing a playground and running rampant through hunks of metal for hours without getting bored. Yesterday, I strolled by a playground and didn’t even look twice. All I can see now is the fruitless cycle of fleeting thrills that exceeds the cost-benefit ratio in the labor-to-fun department.
Could I even find entertainment in the simple thrills of a swing set anymore? Or has the overwhelming sense of existential crisis choked out any hopes for childhood pleasure?
Where does that innate sense of silliness go, I wonder? When do these traits get buried under responsibilities and bills?
Is this why people drink and indulge in substances? To temporarily poison their sense of adulthood in order to tap into their inner child?
Somewhere behind the gates of inhibition lives that long-lost sense of childhood wonder, itching for an excuse to break out again.
The question is: Can you still access that part of yourself without inebriation?
Yesterday at the gym, my friend and I were messing with some teenager by spewing the most absurd rhetoric of nonsensical gobbledygook that spun this poor child’s head around. The snickering laughter that resulted from this verbal abuse brought a degree of boyhood boisterousness bubbling back to the surface. This flash of adolescent nonsense was a sign that hope still exists, and excessive humor may just be the key to unlocking those gates in sobriety.
Vote for me in this coming election, and I’ll enact a “No Inner Child Left Behind” campaign.