Boys and girls are different. Regardless of today’s way-out wackos, there are boys and there are girls; very basic and very beautiful. Boys are genetically curious, adventurous and focused. Girls are genetically more timid, soft, gentle and capable of exceptional broad-based organizational skills.

As an exercise, take a plain piece of blank paper. Turn the paper so that it appears extra wide (landscape view). Take a pen and draw a horizontal line from one side of the paper to the other. Place small arrowheads on each end of the line. This line represents the female capacity for accomplishments. The arrowheads mathematically represent a line without end; basically infinity.

Now take that same paper and draw a perpendicular line anywhere on the horizontal line. Some women would say at least one end of that line should have an arrow on it, but that is left up to the reader to determine. The perpendicular line represents the male capacity for focus. On any facet of discussion, where the two lines meet is the point of common acceptance. The “male line” represents how a male sees the topic; pinpoint and laser finite. Because it is so focused, it represents the ability to define and evaluate an idea to the Nth degree. Some women justify the reason for an arrowhead on one end, is that on any particular subject, men can go on and on and on and on… Well you get the picture.

Ask a girl to do A, B, C, D and E, and she’ll have each item done in the order given or with a minor modification due to helping with F. No sweat.

Ask a boy to do A, B, C… Wait, was that A before B or after C? Why do I have to do C anyway? Can I play video games after A? How about C first, it’s easier? Then, can I do A? What’s for lunch? When are we going to eat?

Women have what this writer calls a “shotgun approach” to life. They can be given many tasks and they do all equally well and organized. Men, on the other hand, are very focused…VERY focused. I refer to this exceptional focus as a “rifle approach.” That rifle approach can be minute in detail. They not only do the job with exceptional aplomb, but can quote chapter and verse of every fact and action. So much so that reciting the minutiae ad nauseum can drive a woman to distractions.

As a youth, I was fortunate to grow up in a home with a loving father and mother. Mother was the caretaker at home and father was the breadwinner and the law. This could be proven on any day when we would hear, “Just wait ‘til you father gets home!” Now, be that as it may, we were all a happy family. Brothers and sisters came frequently to our loving family. Being the oldest, I often wondered what it would be like to range out and see the world rather than little brothers getting into my stuff and breaking my models or toys. And then there were diapers to change, bottles to feed, learning to cook and dishes to do. We all helped out since it ensured free time when we were done.

Free time meant getting to know the neighborhood, making friends and starting relationships. I knew what I wanted in life. I had the model at home. As a precocious kindergartner, I always walked to school with Joanne. We talked about things boys and girls talk about; seasons, flowers, snakes, snails, dogs, cats, marriage and family. She came from a close-knit family too. We both had younger brothers and sisters, so the topic du jour was how we hoped to have children in our family. Yes, I said “our” family. We just assumed we would be an item one day. To seal the deal, I would pick and give her bouquets ranging from dandelions to roses from the neighbor’s prize roses. Her response was always a kiss; my first from anyone outside of my family. Ah, life was sweet and so naive.

Then the dreadful day came when my family moved across town and later across the country. As a boy, it meant new adventures, friends and places to experience. I did notice that my sister’s attitude did change. She remained home more with Mom to help around the house. I, on the other hand, was off to conquer the world and bring home tales of adventure. Many experiences and adventures as well as new friends became part of my life.

Then, again, we were given another new direction. We moved back across the country to the same city we started from.

Technically, we moved to the suburbs; homes built on streets yet to be paved. My sister and I were bused into the city to attend school along with all the kids from our neighborhood. We’d been gone from the area for two and a half years. Gone were many of our early school friends. But, that was alright. As a boy, it meant making new ones; playing football on a new team, playing baseball on a new team and new forests and worlds to conquer.

With all of those changes whirling in my eager young male mind, the first role-call in my 4th grade class startled me into reality. My name was called. I identified myself. Next, “Joanne G….” followed by a very melodious and sweet, “Here.” My head whirled around so fast I thought I had whiplash. It couldn’t be. It was. My first love. My first kiss. My first…. This had to be kismet! It must be that we were intended to be together forever! But what would I tell the guys? No, I had to be a man about it all. By the way, how would a real man handle such things?

During this time of great male turmoil, we learned a new school would be built one block from our home. That would make five schools in five years for me. Worse yet, it would separate me from my true love. How could life be so cruel? Anyway, as a boy, I reasoned, our football championship game was next week. Since I was quarterback, I’d deal with love after I won that game.

My new school opened my eyes to new “guy things” and more firsts. My teacher was a “Miss” and not a “Mrs.” All of the young men in the class were not only smitten, we were in LOVE. Then, just before Christmas, the woman of our dreams became engaged to some interloper more her age. We were all crushed. She just had to wait a couple of years more for any one of us, especially me. What did we do wrong? Once again, guy-thoughts surged through our minds. Instead, we had to look forward to the holidays with one less gift to purchase.

Spring came as it had my whole life. One of the cute girls in my class, Barbara, had a gorgeous, pure-bred German Shepherd. Her dog obviously had a wild side and a soft spot for the Golden Retriever down her block. Great with puppies, she provided nine beautiful pups, 2 males and 7 females. Since they were not pure-bred, Barbara’s parents decided to give puppies away to homes that would love them.

After walking Barbara home, carrying her books of course, and looking those cute puppies in the eye, I selected a male. We tied a blue ribbon around his neck. He was almost mine. My only obstacle were two loving and concerned parents…namely mine.

Feeling the pressure in an already tight house, I did my best to create the best foot forward so I could pop the question to Mom and Dad. I figured I’d try Mom first, because she’d had a dog as a child and she and I always seemed to be able to talk on the right level. Reluctantly, she said if my father would agree, the puppy could be mine.

I waited with baited breath. The clock went into slow-motion. I reasoned that I’d have to promise something to my dad in order to sweeten the deal. Sure, I’d have to take care of the puppy, but that was a given. Each of my brothers and sisters also promised to help care for the puppy. I thought that was a doubtful promise, but I’d be gracious and let them help.

The moment finally arrived. Dad drove up the driveway. I waited for all the loving minutes of greeting to pass before broaching the subject. Naturally one of my brothers did the job for me. My dad’s eyebrows raised and he chanced a look at my mom. She smiled and gave him a loving but fairly neutral look in return. Then I went into my rehearsed negotiations. Oddly it sounded different as it came out of my mouth than when I’d rehearsed it.

He listened. He then went through the required counter of care for the dog. I countered with the strongest affirmative I could muster. Oddly enough, my brothers and sisters said nothing, but jumped up and down in place with anticipation. He still looked as if he wasn’t sure. Reluctantly, I used my silver bullet. “I’ll mow the lawn all summer,” I blurted out. This was a serious thing for me. Power mowers were only for the rich, and since we didn’t have a power mower, you can guess where we stood on the monetary pecking order. He thought, and he thought. He said he’d think about it and give his decision after dinner.

Dinner that night was almost as quiet as a church meeting. Every one of the children were on their best behavior. “Please” and “Thank you” echoed all around the table. No poking or kicking occurred for all of dinner. Truly this was a holy dinner.

Dessert was served and dishes were quickly done, with no cross words. Dad retired to the living room where he read the paper. Then and only then did I walk to the living room to stand in fear and trepidation. Had he reached the sought after confirmation of my dreams? He looked up and obviously repressing a smile, he simply said, “Alright.” But, he added the fearful postscript. “Your room has to remain spotless.” I shared a room with four of my brothers. Actually it was the entire upstairs of our home. Five boys. Standing in the adjoining dining area, my brothers all nodded their affirmation. The baby surely would have also if he’d known the gravity of the response.

The puppy was only five weeks old, so it required another week or so to actually bring him home. He still had to get his puppy shots. I had to create an enclosure. We had to get the correct dog food. But, it happened. My first puppy.

The exciting day finally happened. After school, I again walked Barbara home and in place of her books, I carried home my blue-ribbon encrusted German Shepherd. I named him “King.”

The rest of the story will have to be saved for another day. The days of growing up were fraught with so many opportunities and experiences. I have become the man I am today because of them.