
When I was a child in the 1950s, one of our favorite forms of retaliation against our enemy, the small group of hoodlum kids we called the ‘hard guys,’ from across the tracks, was the infamous rock fight.
As kids, we didn’t possess the strength to propel a stone fast enough to kill an enemy, but they hurt, especially when one pops you on the forehead or the back of your flat top haircut-wearing head while retreating from the fracas.
We were all masters of rock chucking and knew which rocks were the best for throwing: the larger gray stones that lined the railroad tracks across the field from the back of our house. The railroad furnished us the perfect weapon for rock fights, just the right size and weight, and hard edges that would raise a welt on young tender skin.
Georgie, our neighborhood firebug and the biggest titty baby of our gang, took one rock to the nose and had to have stitches, so our parents, after a series of butt-whoopings, ended that form of warfare. We still had BB guns, so that replaced the rocks, but presented a greater danger of shooting one’s eye out, like the classic 1984 movie, ” A Christmas Story. Not a one of us, or our enemy, lost an eye, but those BBs did sting through our jeans and T-shirts.
That description of past juvenile antics brings me to this point: we, meaning the American public and families, are still chucking rocks at each other, not actual stones, but words and actions driven by, news paper articles, television news, social media platforms, and the newest form of ammunition is the smartphone text; they’re all the same, and they hurt more than a small rock to the head and sometimes the wound never heals.
Political and religious tribalism is the newest and the worst form of family alienation. I know firsthand, because I go through it daily, and so does my wife, Momo. Our children and a few fair-weather friends and relatives are liberal Democrats, and we are conservative Christians, so we are easy accessible targets for alienation from their La La land of beliefs and ideology. We are not pious Bible beaters, and, sure, we drink cocktails and wine and beer, and we were teenagers with long hair, rock band playing fools, and a bit wild back in the 1960s. We weren’t real Hippies, but more of a middle-class version that bathed every day and didn’t hang out with the Manson family. We didn’t care for the Vietnam War, but we darn sure didn’t burn buildings, assault the police and citizens, and cheer on socialism like the younguns of today do so freely without guilt.
My grandfather once told me that to get along with family, never talk politics or religion, and he was correct. My father’s extended family on his mother’s side all lived in Fort Worth, within a few blocks of each other. During summer cookouts, a few of them always got into rabid arguments over politics and sometimes religion. Most of them were good, hard-drinking, night club dancing Baptists, but a couple were Catholic, so it was bound to happen. Fists flew, beer bottles zipped by our heads, and uncles and cousins rolled in the grass until one gave up. But that was the end of the disagreement; it didn’t go past the backyard fun, at least not until the next get-together. I cringe at using the term ” back in the day, and the good old days, but that’s when we were civil to each other and didn’t alienate family and friends.
Today, it’s a different world that I don’t recognize. Indoctrination and tribalism go hand in hand. The political tribalism goes both ways; each party is its own, and you insert religion and lack of belief in God and Jesus into the encampments, and it becomes a toxic mix that has ruined many a family gathering and destroyed relationships.
Now, we have texting, which is the worst form of communication. I will admit we use it to communicate with our church’s music ministry, friends, and family. It’s so easy, so non-committing, so bland, so lacking in tonality and reality that a simple few phrases can be taken as an insult or call to arms. It also signals that ” I don’t want to have a real conversation because that requires actual interaction and brain power to think about what you are talking about.” Texting is the newest form of ignoring human interaction; it says I’m too busy to have a conversation or what you have to say is not worth my valuable time. Texting is here to stay unless Elon Musk invents a brain chip implant that lets us communicate our thoughts via Starlink.
I’m looking forward to that implant.
Discover more from Notes From The Cactus Patch
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.


I spent my teenage years in a neighborhood with woods and fields nearby. My friends and I blazed trails, built bridges across deep ravines, and constructed plywood platforms up high in a giant oak tree cluster. Other than hitting the trails with bicycles and mini bikes, swinging out over muddy ravines on vines, and tossing Black Cats into tree hollows to provoke the bees, we had fun engaging in BB gun wars. It was every man for himself, and the rule was to always aim for the lower half of the body. For the most part, the rule was observed. At least no one ever lost an eye.
LikeLike
I did many of the same things, creeks, Cherry Bombs etc. were always involved. We had the same rule shoot below the chest and no one ever got much damage.
LikeLike
I love this description of yours: “We werenโt real Hippies, but more of a middle-class version that bathed every day and didnโt hang out with the Manson family.” I understand that handling differences of opinion can be challenging, especially when you’re trying to stay connected with loved ones. It’s tragic. Good luck to you, Phil.
LikeLike
Thanks, Nancy, it’s a bit of a battle, but getting better.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yep!
LikeLike