Actually, I’ve been known to kill mice, rats, and any number of bugs. Don’t get me started on mosquitoes, either. But while I’m all for eating meat, I’m not big on killing them myself. It’s not that I wouldn’t, it’s just that my hobbies tend more towards books and music. I’m all about bacon, but being an American in 2009 means I do your taxes, you make my shoes, and someone else can take care of the pigs.

“I don’t kill things” was my response to E earlier after he asked whether a gun he was eying would be good for “big game,” whatever that means. E is an all-American Boy, with a capital B. Right now he is at basketball practice because football season ended. At other times he can be found playing lacrosse, and he’ll dabble in just about any other sport he comes across.

And part of E being an all-American Boy is obsessing over weapons, knives and guns especially. It’s easy to get caught up in the violence of it, but that would be wrong and unfair. After all, lots of people have guns and love to hunt. And I myself have – I kid you not – a briefcase of knives, although it’s nowhere near as impressive as my dad’s knife briefcase.

When I was E’s age, I loved to imagine I was at war. I drew scenes of violence on the front of my bulletin at church (but I didn’t fidget!). And I asked for weapons for Christmas every year. Does the jolly fat guy bring weapons on that happiest of days? Yes, Virginia, he does. Joy, love, peace, and a new knife that could get you suspended if you accidentally brought it to school.

So no, I don’t kill things. But I’m not going to be casting the first stone.

I absolutely love where we live. I love the old houses and architecture, I love the community and the people, I love the proximity to town, and I love that we have an urban jungle – complete with creek – in our back yard.

But as C was watching the Elmo-the-babysitter play tag with Elmo yesterday, I got sad for a beloved part of my childhood that C and her siblings will never really have: Hide and Seek (except I remember calling it “Hide and Go Seek” with an extraneous “go” thrown in for those unclear on the concept).

I remember entire evenings consumed by Hide and Seek. I remember being mad at neighbors who wouldn’t play because “90210″ was on tv. I remember yelling and screaming and trying not to get caught. I remember being frustrated that I had to stop playing long enough to eat, and I remember playing until it got too dark to play and then making plans to play again the next day. But most of all I remember running up and down the neighbors’ yards, hiding behind trees or sheds.

Damn, those were good times. When I was a kid, I was never particularly great at most sports; I played entire seasons of baseball without a single hit. But I was fast enough to win medals in track the one year I ran in high school. Hide and Seek was my real game. It was a game of simple rules and running your guts out.

But I don’t think there’s a lot of Hide and Seek playing in ONK. You could ascribe it to the homeless problem, and that was my first thought, too. But the truth of the matter is that the small lots and busy streets just aren’t conducive to the game. And the fence around our (50′x200′) property doesn’t help too much, either. Sure, there are several great parks within a half a mile of my house, but neither of them offer much for Hide and Seek enthusiasts.

But still, I think I will try to get the kids interested the next time we have a crowd over at our house. And maybe it would help if I joined in.