Over the Fence: Definition of a teenager? Someone lost between childhood and chaos!

Published 10:00 am Monday, August 4, 2025

Another definition of a teenager that might be tenable is “A person devoid of all rational thought!” (I’m sorry to say that was me. Yet I survived, proving the old adage that wonders never cease.)

Kay Cora Jewett

When I was a teenager, everything seemed larger than life. I experienced every little frustration and vexation acutely. They were mostly small and unremarkable problems, but that’s not how I saw them. The other side of the coin is that occasionally, one of those problems put me in danger, causing me in later years to be thankful I survived.

I am not alone in this feeling. My friends experienced similar brushes with danger. I have since concluded that unless you’re careful, being a teenager can be hazardous. Remember that lack of rational thought I mentioned? Here is a case in point:

I come from a family of hunters, so guns were always around, and they were accessible. I was taught never to touch them, and I didn’t. But on one fateful occasion, a school friend named Dave dropped by when my parents were absent. Dave was one of those minor problems I mentioned. He was a world-class pest.

Standing in a corner of our living room was a Winchester 32 Special deer rifle. My father owned it, having inherited it from my grandfather. It had been there for as long as I could remember. Dave playfully picked it up and then aimed it at my head. I knew he was teasing, so instead of running, I held my ground (this is where rational thought, or the lack thereof, comes in.) Suddenly, Dave shouted, “Oh my God, it’s loaded! I almost pulled the trigger!” Why he didn’t is lost to history.

Another sharp memory involves the following scenario: When I was 15, I went on a date with a fellow named Bill. (Last name omitted to protect the not-so-innocent). Bill was two years older than I, so he was able to drive a car — and therein lay the problem. Unbeknownst to me until we went on the date, Bill turned out to have an angry and unpredictable temper. I don’t want to be indelicate, but he demanded that I be more affectionate than I wanted to be. When I refused, he told me to get out of the car, and I did. This is the moment where memory fails me, buried forever in the cobwebs of the past. I do recall that I ended up on the hood of the car, clinging to the windshield wipers while Bill drove far too fast through the December snow. It was terrifying, and looking back, I was probably in danger of losing my life. I still don’t remember how I got on that hood or how I got off it alive, but I did.

As I’m sure you know, life can sometimes work in mysterious ways, and a little while ago, Bill appeared on my Facebook feed. For some inexplicable reason, the incident we shared that long-ago night had recently popped into my mind. Until then, I hadn’t thought of him in decades. Serendipity?

Curiosity about what really happened that night started to weigh on me. In his post, Bill mentioned his email address, so I wondered, “Dare I?” Of course I did. I’m a storyteller, and I needed to finish this story. So I typed his address into my computer and thought, “Here we go.”

I began by telling him that I’m a writer and that I have written an essay-style memoir, part of which is about my teenage years. I went on to say that there was one story that I left out and needed his help to complete. I then asked if he recalled the memorable date we went on (back in the last century).

The next day, I got a reply that stunned me. Bill told me that he not only remembered, but that the memory had haunted him for years. He said he had to grow old before he felt brave enough to apologize, and then he didn’t know how to find me. I was surprised that he even remembered the incident, let alone that he thought about it and felt guilty about it his entire life. Of course, I accepted his apology. It turns out he’s a fellow writer, and we share a lot in common, so we even communicate now and then.

Alas, Bill was unable to answer my question as to how I came to be on the hood of his car racing through a snowstorm. But being teenagers, you can bet that it did not involve rational thought!

Sign up for Kay’s hilarious free newsletter, Cat-tankerous Literary News, co-written with her cat, Mick Jagger, aka Cat-a-tonic. He earns his nickname because of his penchant for lying around and slurping gin. When he’s not doing that, he likes to write stories and reviews! Please subscribe at kaycorajewett.com, where you can also find a free excerpt and purchase information for her book: “Over the Fence, Into the Heart.”