When I Was A Boy...

I used to hate it whenever any of my Officers used to begin one of his long-winded lectures with, “When I was a boy…” It would usually be followed by some tedious tale of how we, as Boys, are so much more fortunate compared to when my Officer was a Boy.

The story would usually detail how much he suffered as he drilled under the hot sun for 16 hours (non stop!), which was followed by band practice where they would march around the field 24 times (with no breaks!). Of course, he would be playing the bass drum, mind you, not some other light-weight instrument like the flute (my apologies to all flautists out there). Naturally, each time they fell out of dressing, the entire band would have to go down for 300 push ups.

Life was always much better for us, you see. We sat on chairs, in the shade, under the fan for praise and worship. Knowing the days of when my Officer was a Boy, you would imagine that they had to stand on their feet, at attention, singing hymns from memory. Back then, they were tough! How could we complain about an expedition up Bukit Larut during a camp to earn our Expedition award? To earn his Expedition award, my Officer probably had to climb Mount Kinabalu in shorts and singlet – and that was just Stage 1!

Also, for some strange reason that I could not understand, his officers were always much more cruel than he – a fact that we Boys were constantly reminded to be grateful for. I can still hear it: “You think I am mean? You don’t know what mean really means! When I was a Boy, I had really mean Officers…” Usually by then, my mind had already begun to think about Bible Study – where I could at least look very holy by closing my eyes, leaning forward and going to sleep.

Deciding that it was enough, my friends and I made a promise one afternoon, when yet another “When I was a Boy…” speech began. We told ourselves that we would never use that phrase. Never. Ever. We would not inflict this agony on yet another generation.

So you can imagine how ironic it all felt now that I am an Officer witnessing the changing times. I’ve literally had to bite my tongue when I attended NCO council meetings. Where Boys once took out pencil cases and note pads, I observed NCOs whipping their mobile phones all around the table. When I was a Boy… oh wait a minute. Sorry.

At camps and training courses, I have observed how much more delicious the food has become. They actually had a variety (not chicken rice every meal!) and it didn’t taste like Styrofoam with soy sauce. Not only that, they ate in a nice cafeteria, with a water cooler nearby. When I was a Boy… Oh! Right. Forgive me.

These days, I also marvel at how easy it is for Boys to meet girls. For some (fortunate?) Companies, all a Boy needs to do is look around during praise and worship (yes, Boys will be Boys) and hope the cute Corporal with the pony tail wouldn’t mind dating a Private. Those more daring would attempt to date a Sergeant. Why, when I was a Boy… sigh. Sorry.

Fortunately, I have yet to start a lengthy sermon with “When I was a Boy…” But then, some of my Boys started asking me what Brigade life was like when I was growing up. Fighting the urge to begin with “that phrase,” I did manage to tell them a bit about my Boyhood days. We laughed and had a good time. They saw a side of me that they could not believe existed – a side that actually wore Blues, was mischievous and got punished.

I came to realize that was the beauty of telling stories. It’s not just about telling a story: it’s sharing a history. When we share about our Boyhood days, we create a sense of history for our Boys. It lets them know that they are not anomalies in this crazy world. It gives them a sense of continuity knowing they are a part of something that has existed longer than they have. Our stories show them the role they play to ensure that this history will continue… long after Blues and collar badges.

Try it. Get close enough to their lives to share your stories with them. Show them their place in history and inspire them to run with the destiny that lies before them. Share with them your Boyhood days, your struggles, your hopes and your dreams. Be vulnerable and become a real person to them. They’ve got enough teachers and instructors to deal with from school and tuition – being an Officer is more than just educating or training.

It’s about being an authentic person – someone who went through their Boyhood days, struggling, laughing and playing just like they do today. Sure, the fashion sense is different, as are the toys, but some things never change: love, life and other mysteries.

Tell your stories. Share with them some of the lessons we’ve learned along the way (not that we’re all-knowing or all-wise, and even that itself is a lesson!). Then one day, watch and smile to yourself as everything comes full circle again. Enjoy the moment when you see your Boys become Officers. Enjoy observing a new generation of young people yawn and act coolly disinterested (but are actually eager to listen) as your Boys-turned-Officers stumble over stories beginning with “When I was a Boy…”

Originally published: 23 February 2003