I Wondered Where That Went...

I got an email from my dad this week, relating an interesting story. I'm pretty sure there aren't going to be any legal repercussions, since 1) any violated laws would be post facto, 2) there was no culpable intent, and 3) I would have been about 12 at the time of the at-issue events. Besides, the truth is the truth, I have no fear of it, and I think those of you who read this will find it amusing.

When I was between the ages of about 6 and 16, my family lived in Northern California, in a quiet little residential neighborhood. VERY quiet. Tree-lined streets. Four schools, two churches, a candy store, a pet store, and a public park all within easy walking distance. THAT kind of quiet. I haven't been back there more than a handful of times in the last 15 years, but of course I remember it well.

So I grew up there with my two brothers, SW and GL, in a house with a big yard. The time frame included our pre-teen and teenage years, and this was LONG before 9-11, way back when you could buy real-looking toy guns that didn't even have bright-orange muzzles. As a family with three boys, we had plenty of those, and all sorts of other things that modern soft sensitivities and political-correctness have long since eradicated from the face of the earth.

Of course me, my brothers, and our friends would get tired of soccer, tag, whiffle-ball, and other sports, and would chase each other around with toy knives/swords/guns, and re-enact scenes from GI Joe, Robotech, Thundercats, or whatever. We were active boys. We didn't even have cable, just pirate HBO on a wood-cabinet TV without a remote, and neither SW's Atari 2600 nor (later) my NES really captivated us that much.

But we did have all sorts of toys that got us outside and running around, and not just sports gear. Among the cool shit that we had, thanks to having the usual male fascination with Army/Navy surplus stores, was some stuff that could only questionably be called "toys." For example: dummy grenades. (Google it.) Which are, in fact, actual United States Military surplus hand grenades, lacking only fuses, primers, and explosives. They are just like the ones you see on TV, with a cast-iron "pineapple" fragmentation case, aluminum fuse-body and safety spoon, and a locking pin, complete with the steel pull-ring. They look, feel, and ARE exactly like the real thing, except that they don't explode. Me and my brothers had a few of them, and they were BAD ASS. I've taken a quick look online, and looks like they're still legal to buy and own in most places, and are selling for about the same price that me, GL, and SW paid for ours, circa 1989: less than $10. In any rate, as pre-teen/teen boys, we were somewhat less than diligent about storage and/or maintenance of our toys - including our dummy grenades - which would routinely be lost, found, lost again, found again, etc. over the course of months and years. Perhaps you can see where this tale is going.

Fast forward to the present. My dad is still in touch with one of our old neighbors in that area, who told him that a few days ago, there was a bit of a ruckus at our old house. Police cars blocking the streets, a fire truck, two command vehicles, and a bomb-squad truck. (Although not huge, the town is rich from computer money, and has SPECTACULAR police and fire infrastructure. And there's a firehouse about 300 yards down the street from the house, by the way.)

Apparently, the family that now owns the house was digging in the flower-beds doing some re-planting (honestly, I bet I could guess the spot to within 5 yards), and unearthed what looked exactly like an unexploded hand grenade. It was just like the ones you see on TV, with a cast-iron "pineapple" fragmentation case, aluminum fuse-body and safety spoon, and a locking pin, complete with the steel pull-ring. Unlike my parents, would would have just rolled their eyes, the current residents did not consider munition-handling to be a routine part of gardening. They were a bit concerned with what they had found, and responded appropriately. I have no doubt that it once belonged to me and my brothers, and had been lost in action in the course of one of the wars we fought in that yard. Yes: A toy grenade that me and my brothers lost 20 years ago was the cause of a scare in a quiet suburban town.

Yeah. Sorry about that.

I really do feel bad about this. While I have to say it is a bit funny, I'm sure it really scared the shit out of bunch of people, and wasted a few man-hours of police time to get it sorted out. That having been said, I really wish I could have the grenade back, as a keepsake from my childhood, and generally cool memento.