Canzano: Slipping and sliding into the goat debate

Miss the simplicity of childhood?

Our 10-year-old daughter wanted a goat for her birthday.

This week’s letter to the editor comes from Derek, who reached out to me after I told a story on the radio show about my childhood envy of kids who owned a Slip-n-Slide.

Remember those things?

It was a 20-foot-long piece of plastic with a hose hookup that poured water onto the surface and kept it wet and slippery. It was produced by a company appropriately named WHAM-O. The original box of the late 1970s model declared in print: “It’s crazy — people scoot like seals!!”

We didn’t own one. But my parents did have a giant roll of plastic landscape tarp in the garage. My three siblings and I cut off 25 feet of it, left the hose running on top, added drops of dish soap for an accelerant, and became a pack of seals ourselves.

Derek happened to be listening when I talked about it. He reached out to tell me he missed the simplicity of his childhood. “I wonder how different it would be if we lived in a smaller town where people actually get their hands dirty and kids learn how things work,” he wrote. He noted that he fought off boredom as a kid by going outside, building forts, having dirt clod fights, and watching the TV show Wild Kingdom on Sunday nights.

“My heart was full,” he wrote.

My middle daughter turned 10 on Friday. She and a group of her besties went to the park after school, ate Krispy Kreme donuts, played games, and celebrated. On Saturday, a second wave of the event is happening. My wife is taking a smaller group of kids from her class to make slime at the mall. Then, they’ll eat lunch, come back to our house, and encounter four baby goats.

More on the goats in a bit.

First, understand, that my wife is an immigrant from Taiwan. Her family arrived in Oregon in 1979, just in time for the eruption of Mount St. Helens. I imagine they looked up, saw the smoke and ash in the sky, and wondered: “Does this happen every year?”

The customs in Asia are different. There were no birthday parties in my wife’s childhood. Her first birthday party was at age 16. I asked her father the other day what he did for his 10th birthday in Taiwan. He said: “Nothing.”

My wife is making sure our daughters get to celebrate like she wished she could have as a kid. The big event on Friday after school was a success. It was followed by a sit-down family dinner that night. And here comes the follow-up event on Saturday starring four furry farm animals.

My daughter asked for a goat for her birthday. We balked. Not happening. But my wife made it her mission to find someone who owns a herd of them. She’s arranged for four of the critters to visit our backyard. I’ve been put in charge of taking receipt of the goats, which is only to say I am going to miss the slime event.

It’s right about here that I need to note how complicated the sports world has felt lately. Our little sports diversion doesn’t feel like much of an escape on some days. The wire is a neverending stream of breaking news reports, lawsuits, fines, and suspensions, only occasionally interrupted by games.

Conferences are being sued by colleges. The NCAA and its members are being sued by athletes in a series of class actions. College athletics is off the rails. The Kansas City Chiefs will play games next season on six different days of the week. Shohei Ohtani’s interpreter and friend turned out to be a degenerate gambler and scammer. And Caitlin Clark, the best thing going in women’s sports, has been snubbed by USA Basketball. She’s not on the Olympic roster.

A few years ago, my primary care physician informed me that he was quitting. He was fed up with corporate medicine, insurance companies, and city life. He and his wife moved their two children to rural Mississippi, where he started a small-town practice. I imagine the good doctor is sitting on his porch today, sipping sweet tea, waving at children who ride past on bicycles.

Or maybe he’s busier than ever and still hassled by the insurance racket. But for my peace of mind, I choose to see the guy in a bow tie, smiling, sitting in a rocking chair, sipping away.

I miss the simplicity of my childhood. Do you miss yours? Derek does. I had great parents. They didn’t run around trying to make sure I wasn’t bored. They simply unlocked the sliding door that went to our backyard and pointed toward the world.

I found all kinds of adventure beyond that doorway. My childhood was that home-made Slip-n-Slide, tree forts, a creek beyond the edge of our property, an orchard of walnut trees, lots of birds, snakes, insects, and a Nerf football that I often passed to myself when nobody else was around.

I’m not knocking the goat party. It’s going to make my daughter’s day. I’m on board. But I wonder what we’re going to do when she turns 11 and wants a kangaroo.

---

Thank you for reading. I appreciate all who have supported, subscribed, and shared my new independent endeavor with friends and family in recent months. If you haven’t already — please consider subscribing.

This is an independent reader-supported project, with both free and paid subscriptions. Those who opt for the paid edition are providing vital assistance to bolster my independent coverage. Please consider becoming a paid subscriber to access all my posts.