This freedom is the most powerful memory for me. Starting when I was 5 years old, I was wandering alone in the streets, parks, gullies, and hills of Seattle and Boise, pretending to be an indigenous explorer in the pre-colonial era. My parents had no idea where I was, which was fine as long as I came home before dark.
As an adolescent, my friends and I ran amok in large office buildings, playing a wild version of elevator tag, or turning the state capitol building into a raucous playground until we were chased out. We snuck into school gymnasiums, followed fire trucks for miles on our bikes, and made prank phone calls.
My parents threw parties with live jazz bands, and I would let all the drunk dancers give me “just one sip” of wine from each glass until I was dizzy. Most adults sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher to me.
School felt like a prison of repetition, and I often abruptly got up and walked out. I forged my mom’s signature on permission slips, but after awhile teachers just stopped asking. I always returned to class for tests, so that I wouldn’t need to repeat anything.
I think kids had more latitude back then, because we occupied a space of insignificance. I felt largely invisible in the world, so I could push boundaries without consequence.
Wikipedia mentions the poem without showing it. Anyway, here it is.
Churchill Bear Jail
One of your first major stops in Churchill is jail, bear jail
which makes you feel sad and odd
at the same time. Then this feeling turns to knowing
that bear jail is silly yet incredibly bizarre.
Bizarre seems the right word to describe Quonset
hut outside of town but there is more. Bears, you’re told,
are given jail time depending on their offense and how
many times they commit that offense or any other faux pas.
First offenders are hauled back to Churchill Cape with other
free bears but if they come back to raid
or to be caught again, they are given thirty days.
They are not fed while they are serving their time.
Thirty days in jail without a lawyer, without
a judge, without a jury, without bail, without
good time served, you realize. Then you think
of bizarre ways of breaking them out. No justice.
Yet you think what would happen if there were
a judge? “Thirty days,” he says. Bear, representing
himself, asks about his bear rights. Judge says
he should waive any rights because bear has none
anyway. The bear waves goodbye with perfect law/decorum
to be put in his cell till hell freezes over.