The Thinking 
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More Memories of Savagery

October 17, 2010


KRISTOR writes:

Lawrence Auster’s memories of childhood play brought back a flood of similar memories: playing war with sticks for rifles; practicing for hours to perfect my vocal imitations of machine gun fire; elaborate mining operations modeled on the side of a dirt hump, using toy trucks and construction machines; throwing my knife millions of times at a tree, trying to learn how it was done. But the absolute acme of all my play took place when I was about 11. My father’s side of the family had bought a bunch of land in the Vermont woods, for a family retreat. We all vacationed there for many years together: about 15 cousins and 6 parents, usually joined by my grandparents. We boys used to spend hours pretending to be Indians in the woods, skulking about as quietly as we possibly could and ambushing each other. I made myself a loincloth once, and tried to peel bark off birch trees in useful quantities (it’s pretty tricky). Once the whole troupe set out on a hike to a waterfall deep in the woods. Read More »

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