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| Saturday, July 31, 2010 |
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I’m headed to the old creekside fort, sort of
Published August 10, 2009
I’m going to go out on a limb and say 100 percent of all males reading this had, at some point in their life, a fort.
I’m not talking about the military kind that conjures up images of bunkers and armories. I’m talking about the fort that all young boys built and met up at after school and everyday during the summer.
You know, the one with the “No Girls Allowed” sign hanging conspicuously near the entrance.
Close your eyes and think back.
It was a place of refuge from meddling parents, annoying younger siblings and girls with cooties.
It was a place where too many young men took that first puff off of a stale Lucky Strike someone lifted from his old man.
It was a place where lots of boys got their first glimpse at a girly magazine.
It was a place for young men to gain some independence and come of age.
Having a fort was a rite of passage.
The fort was, no doubt, a special, special place.
My fort was no different. Our crew consisted of me – Baby Ruth, the twins – Petrey and Levings DeBerg, Hubie and Bad Brad Heflins. Note: The names have been changed to our assumed fort names to protect the not so innocent.
There were occasional stragglers and a few honorary members, but the charter members were the five of us.
It was located right off of the No. 10 fairway at Indian Hills Country Club in Tuscaloosa. It sat alongside a little creek and there were a few lawn chairs — the kind women sunbathe in — someone managed to finagle from the pool.
We had a battery-operated clock that hung on a tree and a fire ring made of rocks along with other various and sundry items we’d collected along the way. It was, as forts go, far from fancy, but it served us well for many years.
My, how far we’ve come. We’ll all be staring down the backside of 30 sooner rather than later. Most are married and some have kids. The days of forts, stale smokes and ripped out centerfolds have been gone for close to 20 years.
Looking back I envy that freedom. It was a life without a 401(k) or a mortgage. There were no housing bubbles bursting or stock markets crashing.
Our biggest problems were figuring out what the fish in the country club ponds were biting and finding a magnifying glass to start a fire.
So, in honor of old times, my crew has decided it’s time to reconvene. I’ve heard through the grapevine that another, more motley crew has taken over our old stomping grounds.
Given that, we’ve decided to move our new fort to a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
I suspect our digs for this trip will be a little nicer than our original fort. I only hope the time we share will be as much fun as it was sitting on a lounge chair next to a creek in the woods.
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