Essay

Bill Bryson is a competent writer. He is a father and husband. And his childhood was not one you would expect for an award winning author. He has done many things that have been less than honest but can now look back on and laugh at. He had experienced a world far removed from this one. And he has remembered the way he used to think, the way he and his friends were. And in many ways the fantastic, erratic childhood he lived was absolutely normal.

Bill Bryson was born in 1951. America was blooming into a new, consumer oriented nation. After the war its economic strength had increased considerably, allowing people to indulge in all of the consumer glory around them. Companies stopped making battleships and tanks and started making dishwashers and refrigerators for suburban America. No longer would poverty be an issue; people became frantically more interested in pleasing themselves with an income that allowed you to do a lot more than simply feed your family.

As a child, and particularly in his teenage years, Bill had done quite a few questionable things. In the local theatres they would sometimes host afternoon children’s matinees. A large dark room would quickly be filled with laughter and an assortment of candy and other sticky food items. Bills friend Doug Willoughby had been planning on breaking into one of the vending machines. They made an attempt with a group of other children and with some luck, and the help of an unsuspecting manager, managed to escape with its contents. Later, in his teenage years, Bill began to make fake identification cards for his friends so that they could buy alcohol. He was nearly caught. He had been called to the principal’s office and a detective was there to question him (he used his father’s checks because they had the same consistency as ID’s, but his father’s information and bank were still printed on the back) about some fake driver’s licenses he had found with his address, phone number and father’s name on the back.

People in the 1950’s were far happier. Although there was the constant threat of nuclear annihilation they indulged themselves in the idea and found entertainment in it. People did not think anything bad could happen to them. Injury and death were far away from the minds of economically content America. It was also far safer. You could wander the streets at night without worrying about being mugged or attacked. This allowed kids to be out and free enjoying the splendor of a world far simpler. In this world Bill had the freedom to do a lot.

Bill’s teachers disliked Bill. He had poor grades and wasn’t exactly a respectful student. He got through high school “by the skin of his teeth”. He was smart but no genius. And he’s been lucky to go relatively far in life. His friends were an interesting group to say the least. Doug Willoughby was smart and used his intelligence in ways that some would deem useless. Stephen Katz was a far gone drunkard. Jed Mattes was, flamboyant, and happened to later become Bill’s agent after not seeing each other for a very long time.

Bill has been luckily in acquiring memories and a life most of us would be happy to have. His childhood and adolescence were spectacular. Now, though, the place he knew is gone. He can write about it, but never physically revisit it. I would not have guessed that this man, this author of a considerable age, had led the life that he did so many years ago. Through this recounting of a time past, he has at least been able to reconstruct some of it.