1965 in the Rain

As a little kid, I used to love playing in the rain....splashing in the puddles, building make-shift dams in the mud under our neighbor's back porch, just letting the water hit my face and run down my cheek....it felt like I was being baptized by Mother Nature.

Back then, kids were able to go off by themselves for hours without causing an Amber Alert.

I wonder....were there just fewer perverts and crazies back then or did we just not hear about it so much?

Our neighborhood had its share of characters. Most were harmless and lovable. We did have a neighborhood bully or two, and had a few imported bullies as well but for the most part I steered clear of their shenanigans.

We did have a few questionable older folks a couple of blocks over.  At about eleven years old I had a run-in with one of them and swore that nobody would ever be able to do that to me again. Immediately after the event I got back on my bike and just rode and rode 'til I was too tired, then went home and took the longest shower in my life.

I let the water run all over me, bathing me, soothing me.....rinsing the tears and hurt, shame and rage away.
It reminded me of the rain, of standing out in it and feeling alive.

Later that night there was a fluke thunder storm.  I watched through my bedroom window as the night's rain rinsed the world clean. 

I managed to get over the incident on my own, due in part no doubt to my own unique survival methods which somehow always made me lose time. But for the most part, to the world at large I was just an eleven year old that summer...and I still remember playing in the rain.

For today, Fifty Five Is The New 1965 in the Rain....because.