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Many might think of my childhood, as boredom most hard to compare,
Didn't have the "tube" or arcade games, and my movies-- sterile fare.
But I did have the big old radio--and imagination is free,
A mind's eye sees better what's heard--(far better than if it can see).
If I were growing up right now--midst all of this "plastic" bliss,
The absence of model airplane kits, is what I most would miss,
For they taught me many a lesson of life, as I tried again and again,
To follow all instructions--my balsa pinned under the pin.
For you really do have to wait- for the glue must be dry, to be strong!
Drawings need accurate following- errors compound when you're wrong.
That should you do a bad cover, regardless how good were the frame,
Work you held in your hand at the end, somehow mingled with shame.
The feeling one had, when the time, it had come, to see if it really would fly,
Was hard to describe--- it's almost like you-- that is going to be making this try.
If the model flew well, the thrill that arose, could last far more than a day,
Though crashes may come an undo your work-- that etch in your mind- it will stay.
So patience was learned, and purpose of work and the quiet rewards that these give,
The thrill of success-- to know one might fail- and the balance that's needed to live.
I mourn for this new generation whose motto is "pleasure right now",
Someday they'll find they might like to work-- but will they have ever learned how?