Today’s column was contributed by Richard Ochs of Walnutport. He shares with us some of the “dumb” things he did as a kid and he reminds us that we all did foolish things during our awkward teenage years.

Whenever a new house was being built on our street, it became a place for adventure to every kid in the neighborhood. I walked through a construction site until I came upon on a loose floor board on the second floor. I jumped on the end of the board. This was fun!

I jumped again and again and then suddenly the board snapped in two, sending me crashing down to the bottom of the first floor.

I broke my glasses, but not my face. After a check at the hospital with my mother, I promised her I would not be so stupid again. Well, that promise would soon be broken.

I wasn’t the only dumb teenager on the block. On a hot summer day, this kid named Eddie and I had come home from a bike ride, I said, “Let’s jump in the pool!” I saw this weird look on his face as we hurdled over the side.

When I came up to the surface, Eddie was nowhere to be seen. I saw bubbles floating up from the deep end of the pool. I swam under and there he was standing at the bottom, with eyes and mouth wide open. I yanked him up to the top by his arm and dragged him to the shallow end.

“What happened?” I asked.

He gasped until he finally caught his breath. “I don’t know how to swim.” Now I know Eddie wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but after that day, Mom said he’d better stay away from our pool unless he threw in an inner tube for over his head.

I did a lot of dumb things back in the day; one of the worst was cheating on a test in school. I mean, I never thought I would get caught. If you cheated in my school, you failed the marking period. In my ninth grade English class, I had a B average, but I wanted to shoot for an A.

I got this brilliant idea to write the answers to a test on my arm. As I rolled up my sleeve, I got a tap on my shoulder. You guessed it. I looked up and there was my teacher, glaring down at me. I flunked the marking period!

When you’re 15 years old, what do you know about love? Well, I thought I knew everything. My first girlfriend was Sherry. We never forget their names, do we? Sherry was 13 going on 30, and she looked very mature for her age. I was in love with her. She was not with me.

We “dated” for a few months and then she dumped me. About a year later, she wanted to see me again. Once the summer was gone, she dumped me again. A year after that she wanted to see me again. Now I was dumb twice, but I wouldn’t play the fool a third time. This time I was the dumper and I said to her, “Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no more!”

Back in the ’60s, cars were a big deal to teenagers once they got their driver’s licenses. My mother owned a 1966 Chevy Impala Super Sport with a 390 horsepower big block V-8 engine. Of course, what could be better than a teenager driving a muscle car?

My overbearing mother set down the rules. I could drive the car only if I was by myself or on a date. No guys were allowed. Peer pressure changed that. One the day I raced past my house with her car loaded with my buddies. Dumb move. I was laying the rubber down on the road. Another dumb move. She looked out the window and saw two of my friends waving their arms out of her car. I was suspended from driving for two weeks.

On a five-day trip to Paris with some kids my age, we stayed at a hotel. And one day we were bored, which by the way, is pretty much every day for teenagers. Somebody suggested that we fill up balloons with water and drop them onto the street from our third-floor window.

We threw a few balloon grenades and watched them explode into the street until a woman was walking by. I didn’t see her and my balloon hit her right on the back of the head. She complained to the hotel manager.

Fortunately, one of my roommates spoke French and talked us out of getting in trouble.

As we age, we still do stupid things, but different kinds of dumb things than when we were in our teens. I have wondered about what dumb things my mother had done as a teenager. That’s a question I never asked her, but if I did, I’m certain that she would have said, “I never did anything stupid.”

Sure, Mom. I bet your nose would have kept growing like Pinocchio’s.

Note: I welcome guest columnists. Anyone who would like to contribute a column or an idea for one, please contact me by email.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com