*Boys in the U.S. between the ages of fourteen and nineteen die of injuries at a rate three times that of the more sensible sex; one dies every 40 minutes. 

Dangerous Inheritance**

It was an ordinary accident. Two boys driving to high school had topped a hill too fast and wedged their small pickup under a stopped semi. Hundred-foot skid marks explained it all. Both boys were pinned in the wreckage, legs folded in odd directions. The driver was convulsing thick blood. They struggled weakly, and while distant sirens found their way, the truck driver readied a fire extinguisher, and I held them still.

Mother Nature played a particularly cruel trick on young men; they are somehow compelled to challenge danger, while being completely unable to understand it.

A woman was on the rescue team. I was thankful, yet vaguely uncomfortable with her stern competence. The men could all remember their time, the pounding rush, the defiant invincibility. With resigned acceptance they carried off two of their own. The woman was an outsider at this humbling ritual, an intrusion of sanity, like a nun at a prizefight. I wondered if the woman understood the ancient instructions these boys were following when they raced along that narrow hilly road.

It was evening before I learned any more. Among the injuries were collapsed lungs, a fractured skull, and several broken legs, but both boys would survive. Horror turned to relief, then sadness.

We males have been given instincts that are not necessarily good for us. These invincible young warrior instincts came from our tribal past, and the combination creates this deadly rite of passage. 

We evolved as a clan or tribal species. As fire and tools were mastered, our problems with food and predators were largely overcome. Populations approached the limits of the resources, and conflicts arose. Warriors became necessary, a duty that involved dodging and throwing spears. Speed and agility were favored over size and strength.

Older members with hungry families had compelling reasons to lead these risky confrontations, but they were slow, and were needed for their knowledge and experience. Young females were swift and agile, but they were necessary for reproduction. Young males were the obvious warrior candidates.

In nature, however, this is backwards. Offspring do not risk their lives for parents. It doesn’t happen. Getting young men out front presented an ongoing problem.

Famous for her tricks, Nature found a way. She gave young males a love for thrills and glory, and the belief that they are invincible. Then, for good measure, she gave everyone a love for “heroes.”

It was a costly solution, but it worked. Groups armed with these willing weapons prevailed. For uncounted eons we males have been bred to be usefully and expendably stupid at adolescence. Like soldier ants, we weren’t designed to survive, we were designed so the more valuable members of our clan would.

The spears are gone. The instincts live ruthlessly on. The grisly result pours into emergency rooms daily, not all of it extracted from mangled vehicles.

In some areas, teams of idle boys engage in a rivalry that involves shooting at each other. Different game. Same thrills. Same glory. Same sirens. Same angry words scrawled on the toe tags, "Terminal Stupidity”. Ages of tribal push and shove have left the intelligent species with sons that are temporarily dumber than dirt.

For most of human history, warriors were revered. Young men knew their purpose and strutted in regal importance. In today’s placid world, they languish in boredom. The tedium can reach critical mass, and when a chance for thrills or glory arises, young men heed the ancient call.

The carnage is particularly disturbing because the last few generations of us have known about our origins, and have been reluctant to accept them. Anthropologists try. They lead us to their excavations and eagerly point to our ancestors. We glance impatiently at some crumbling bones and primitive weapons, then we look back at our shiny things and walk away. In bitter irony, we dismiss our parentage while 'Luck' decides which of our sons will live.

The boys on that road needed to know what they were passing through. Fitted with obsolete instructions and set loose in a modern arena, they're in a world they’re unsuited for.

Our sons don’t need lectures and restrictions. They need information. They need to be told about their dangerous inheritance.

Pitted against breeding, knowledge is sorrowfully inadequate, but instincts, like tricks, lose much of their terrible power once revealed. Clear and complete information is all we can offer.

***

roofmansix

References

*Centers for Disease Control and Prevention http://webapp.cdc.gov/sasweb/ncipc/mortrate.html 

Injury deaths, all intents, 2000-2019, ages 15-19, (Female – 44,311 -- Male – 135,465).

**This article first appeared in the spring edition of the Hektoen International quarterly.

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