What is a Boy?

What is a Boy was written by an anonymous author and was published in The Nevada News of Prescott, Arkansas on January 25, 1951. It was recently resurrected by Jerry McKelvy in his Sandyland Chronicle and serves as the basis for this article.

My thoughts were turned to this subject with the SuperBowl commercial featuring Little Darth Vader (shown below). I suppose it hit home with me since both my son and grandson dressed up as Darth Vader on Halloweens many years apart. Darth Vader and, now, Volkswagen, will last in memory for a long, long time. (By the way VW, I loved my 1963 Beetle.)

Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights, and colors, but all boys have the same creed: To enjoy every second of every hour of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.

Boys are found everywhere — on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, adults ignore them, and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, and Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket.

When you are busy, a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding bundle of noise. When you want him to make a good impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.

A boy is a composite — he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a firecracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.

Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs, and breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty knife, a half-eaten apple, 3 feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, 2 gum drops, 6 cents, a sling shot, a chunk of unknown substance, and a genuine supersonic code ring with a secret compartment.

A boy is a magical creature — you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can’t lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can’t get him out of your mind. Might as well give up — he’s your captor, your jailor, your boss, and your master — a freckle-faced, pintsize, cat chasing bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with the two magic words — "Hi Dad!"

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Volkswagen captured the essence of a little boy being a little boy. Enjoy.

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