I spent the better part of my life trying to find my way back to the simple life of years ago and my childhood. A good number of my friends have slipped into being child like as they near the end. Near as I can tell, because your friends won't always tell you, my brain is still working. The rest of me has good days and bad, pretty much like life in general. My fingers are limber enough for typing and my feet only hurt when the weather turns cold. The Macmillan side of the family lived into their nineties. I'm not sure they all considered that a good thing.
When you are young and horny as a rooster let go in the henhouse you never think that the day is going to come when you will have the desire inside and no opportunity. Looking back I missed some fine opportunities for the sake of what I now realize is a load of horse shit. Still it had its good points.
Growing up on the east coast of Canada, I was third generation Canadian, originating out of old Erin. Not just Catholic, mind you, and not just Roman Catholic, we were Irish Roman Catholics. And yes, we knew the curse of our people, which is sort of a chicken/egg situation. Depression and drinking: hard to tell which come first naturally. The Catholic boys suffered awful when it came to sex. If you knew what was under the girlies clothes, you were damned for even thinking about it. By the time our hormones got past our guilt a few found themselves wed to some unlikely partners.
Still I can't say that I would go to the lengths of one local lad. He got Florrie one night as she was walking home from the docks : being child-like, Florrie probably didn't even know what really happened. She didn't tell either. He just had to get to bragging how Florrie asked for it. What a crock! Florrie would snuggle up to a cougar if it would tell her it loved her. Nothin' much was said in the moment you understand. Must have been three weeks later they found him damn near dead behind the abbatoir. Seemed sort of fitting... he hurt her and made her bleed...left hurting in a heap of animal entrails. There's sex and then there's loving and the man who isn't able to tell the difference is going to miss out on one of the finest things about living.
Now I am not advocating none of your vigilante action, (did you see Charles Bronson in that Death Wish? had the right idea carried a little too far), violence truly begets violence. What I am saying is that if love is involved in anything its going to protect. That's just natural. Even a wild animal is going to fight for itself and its wee ones to survive. There are some folks who would say the world is more violent now than when I was growing up. That may be. Near as I can tell the amount of unloving in the world is just about the same. It's the protecting that is missing.
You talk protection and woman in the same sentence these days and folks thing you mean condoms. I had three sisters and our parents would have beat me and my three brothers silly if we didn't keep an eye out after them. Last year, a young fella down at the trading post had his sister date raped. Knew who did it and all but there was no "physical" evidence for court, apparently. She was black and blue from something but for some reason it wasn't enough. Well, I didn't expect him to go and kill the guy who did it, but when the same guy did it to one of her friends, why the whole thing got repeated down at the police station. When I asked him what he thought he might want to do about it seeing as it was for sure now the guy had hurt his sister, he said it was 'her business'. God Almighty, she already went one round with the bastard and came out the poorer for it. Seems to me he might lend her and the other girl a hand in setting things straight.
It's a damn shame if you ask me that a man gives up his sense of guilt and loses all sense of what's decent.