Forgotten Treasures of Americana: Playing Outside

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In our never ending quest to provide all of our readers with relatable, ‘slice of life’ style content, we here at the SoBros Network feel the time to weigh in on social commentary has officially come.

At nearly 30 years old, I’m practically a part of the geriatric demographic. I can remember things such as Surge, Animaniacs, and Street Sharks. Per the rules of widely accepted science, that makes me qualified to offer expertise in the field of social studies (and phonics, but kids these days aren’t studying that shit anymore).

With this realization comes an incredible obligation. It is now my responsibility, and mine alone, to educate the masses about the glory days of Americana. Things once forgotten will have new life through the work of the SoBros Network.

That’s what we do. ‘Cause we love you. All of you – even the stupid ones.

So, with that said, it’s time for me, Big Natural, to open up the leather-bound parchment pages of the annals of history. It’s time for the newest as-often-as-I-remember-to-write-it column: Forgotten Treasures of Americana.

And, really, what better place to start than with the advancement of technology and the impact it has on today’s children?

When I was a child, I loved playing outside so much that I basically lived in the woods. To this day, I like to go stand in silence in the middle of the woods staring at trees and rocks as most well-adjusted adults do from time to time. But, when I do it, it is much more profound because of the things that become present in my mind’s eye.

I once was able to mentally picture a completely solved Rubik’s Cube because of how prophetically I was thinking in the woods.

This uncanny ability to reason and contemplate life’s deepest meaning can be directly attributed to my time in the forests of Gladeville, Tennessee as a child.

The great long summers of my youth were spent riding bikes with neighborhood kids. While others were skateboarding, I was sitting on the boards riding them down the hill. That’s called ingenuity – another sign of high intelligence.

We played padless street hockey (which is really hard if you’re the only kid without roller blades). We caught snakes. We pretended to shoot each other with sticks. We shot actual paintball guns at each other and recklessly hooked professional wrestling moves on a daily basis.

What did that teach me? Not to be stupid. Because when you’re stupid, you end up in a ditch with a bike wrapped around your head. You get a bruise the size of a grapefruit on your knee from a paintball gun. You get two teeth knocked out from a vulcanized ball of rubber. Sometimes, you shit your pants.

My point? You learn how to grow up by playing outside.

Kids just don’t do that anymore – most of them are ghostly pale, actually. They have their Twizzlers and Dunkaroos, Yoo-Hoo’s, and sneakers that light up. Some of them have video games like Yahtzee that drain their minds for hours on end as the rest of the world evolves around them.

Society is littered with distractions in 2016 – X-Boxes, Playstations, Nintendos, Game Gears, Sega Genesises, and Pogs. The brainwashers at Milton Bradley have even made a simpler version of The Game of Life.

That’s what all of this is about – creating a generation of humans with terribly short attention spans who also happen to be tremendous wusses, so the government can reap the rewards of having a desensitized population of apathetic voters and entitled individuals who will give elected officials more power in exchange for security.

Wow – that got really dark for a moment – let’s rewind a bit.

Why am I calling them wussies? Because they aren’t out in the woods throwing rocks, sticks, bottle rockets, and crawfish at each other the way I did.

Which brings me to the perfect example of what a fully functional adult who was shaped by playing outside looks like: me. Because of how often I played outside as a child, I now have an entire $300 to my name.

And about $62,000 of college debt that I have worked incredibly hard for the last ten years to pay down from $64,000.

Now, after reading that, I’m sure you’re wondering how you can teach your child to be as tough and fiscally responsible as I am.

My recommendation? If you have kids (which I don’t), force them out of your home from the moment the sunlight spreads throughout the sky like a crack in a windshield until at least six straight days have passed.

If you’re worried that they might get hungry, leave a handful of Honey Nut Cheerios on the front porch every evening at dawn. This will keep them from starving for the first couple of days.

Before you know it, they’ll be having water balloon fights, building treehouses, skinning coyotes for food, and will have completely rebuilt the motor on the old 1972 Camaro that sits behind the barn. Overall, they’ll just start being normal kids, y’know?

I’ve even heard of kids returning from this experiment with their driver’s license. It’s a real miracle of parenting.

The bottom line is that playing outside is a long lost art form that, if revived, could return us to an era not unlike the Golden Age of America: the 1930s.

You’re welcome.

Stoney Keeley is the editor of the SoBros Network, Tennessee Titans Featured Analyst for Pro Football Spot, and covers the WWE for WrestlingNews.co. Follow on Twitter @StoneyKeeley,@PFSpot@WrestlingNewsCo

Follow us on Twitter @SoBrosNetwork

Image courtesy of Paul Gilmore on Unsplash!

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