Robin Hood (Not)

By

Barnwood

During my teen years I had a close friend, let’s call him Ed. From Grade 6 until the end of High School, we were inseparable. The first day I was invited to Ed’s house I was amazed. This guy had more games than a small store! You, well some of you, do remember the days of board games: Monopoly, Risk, chess, table hockey…

But first I have to tell you why two young boys were so free…Ed’s Dad worked hard in the bush. Back then the men didn’t come home every day, they stayed at the bush camp for months. His mother was a nanny for some rich people. His older brother who wrestled with us and played his guitar in his bedroom wasn’t always around. That left his grandpa, who didn’t speak a word of English. His room was the car port converted into a bedroom and he was deaf.

Ed had a brand new Hitachi stereo in the living room and we had endless days to play games! We would listen to the newest: Led Zeppelin, Carlos Santana, Uriah Heep and the Guess Who records. These brand new albums back in the early ‘70s were cranked up loud, very loud while we played all six colour pieces in Risk or all eight figures in Monopoly. A note book kept all the stats from every game we ever played. Ed was very competitive and would have gladly beaten me every game he could. In table hockey and table football the detailed stats told a story how the games unfolded. The vibrating table football had notes detailing players, plays and notes on the opponents. This was very serious fun. Ed was my nemesis. He was a little older, a little wiser and he had home field advantage all the time.

Where I could hold my own was the more athletic games like table hockey, tennis, target shooting (unlike chess, cards or board games). In Ed’s back yard a giant piece of plywood with a target was erected. Ed had a gun, ok, just a pellet gun. Hour after hour the target was pelted. It was fun but eventually it got boring even after we put the most villainous faces from Life Magazine. Along with the pellet gun, we had a couple of bows. This too provided a contest at first requiring more physical strength. But the smallish back yard with our increasing skill left us without challenge.

I’m not sure whose idea it was but I’ll take the credit. I’m sure all of you have seen epic fails on YouTube. If there had been internet back in the ‘70s and a kindly neighbour filming, it would have gone viral. Since target practice had become a little dull the idea was to go into the front yard, bow in hand and shot arrows at each other! The front yards were about 40 feet across, with no fencing between the houses. Ed went a couple of houses down to shot. At least 80 feet away. He had a nice new 45lb 60 inch Shakespeare Wonder wooden bow laminated with fiberglass and I had an old Super Jet 30lb 60 inch fiberglass bow. We had protection of course. What person in their right mind would shoot arrows at each other without an aluminum garbage can lid as your shield?!

This all went well at first. The freedom of youth to play, explore and lob arrows at each other! My bow being weaker delivered a smooth arched flight. If I could ask Ed one question I would like to know whose idea it was really after all. He had the stronger, faster bow. Ed knocked down my every attempt with ease. My buddy on the other hand, with the stronger bow, had a more direct path. On Ed’s third attempt, I missed. When I did not hear the clank on the garbage can lid I looked down to admire the arrow firmly planted into my upper thigh. I staggered around the front lawn for all the neighbours to witness. A little dizzy, I pulled out the target arrow that was embedded an inch into my muscle. Missing anything vital, a dime sized hole appeared. I don’t remember any pain, just anger. I lost to Ed again!