A Comedic Time Capsule into 1950s Boyhood: The Life and Times of the Last Kid Picked by David Benjamin

Title: The Life and Times of the Last Kid Picked

Author: David Benjamin

Publisher: Last Kid Books

ISBN & Price: 9780812966589, $18.64

Buy here.

The Life and Times of the Last Kid Picked by David Benjamin is a witty comic memoir built from Benjamin’s own childhood stories, each one marking a milestone in his coming of age. The book works as a time capsule into the inner life of kids in 1950s Wisconsin—colorful, shiny, and full of delicious childhood splendor—a world where adults are simply not allowed. Benjamin playfully recounts his adventures as a “memory dump with fictional embellishments,” capturing how small, mundane moments can feel like life-or-death situations through the eyes of a kid. 

The memoir begins with the important notion that in the 50s there was a strict separation between the adult world and the kid world. “Kids and grownups, at that time, went their separate ways. They lived together in close proximity, even shared the same rest rooms and ate at the same table—but we were segregated.” (21) Not only were adults constantly shooing away the ever-annoying presence of children, but the kids, aware of how flawed and unpredictable adults could be, instinctively kept their distance as well. This dynamic fueled many of Benjamin’s exploits with his friends, who found solace in the outdoors, a space where they were free to act like children. Outside, they were “set loose without instructions,” and “melted into the neighborhood, populated the playgrounds and sandlots, pilfered the orchards and puked green apples.” (40) 

Benjamin crafts a yellow brick road of epic outdoor adventures: hunting squirrels, mummifying toads, throwing twenty gallons of rotted tadpoles off a porch, narrowly escaping drowning, being chased by rabid dogs, suffering the mortification of a hook mishap, and plunging into leech-infested waters to avoid embarrassment. With each tale, Benjamin treats the events with the gravity of history in the making, capturing a mischievous, childlike perspective in which their world is, quite literally, everything. The stories also reveal a social order among children, where bullying and ridicule were par for the course. Across these episodes, young Benjamin finds his rhythm among his mates, starting as the last kid picked for a game and ending as someone personally invited to play by important peers—and even chosen first. Benjamin deliberately weaves his character’s development into these moments, allowing readers to grow alongside him, witnessing the emergence of both his confidence and his sense of boyhood. 

Benjamin’s writing gleefully captures the essence of childhood through gritty, sensory-rich detail, portraying seemingly minor moments as “galaxies unfolding.” He brilliantly writes the physicality of boyhood in such a way that you can practically feel the sweat, dirt, and adrenaline on the page. Religious undertones are threaded into the narrative, highlighting the tension between innocence and filth and underscoring the delicate line young boys must learn to walk. Benjamin uses timely cultural references, such as the Pillow Talk soundtrack, Daffy Duck character, and the Ben-Hur movie, to anchor readers in the era. He also packs a punch in his comedic timing, building up tension in the discomfort before landing the humor. 

The Life and Times of the Last Kid Picked asks readers to tag along as kids wage anarchy through their town and discover the joys of rule-breaking. As the stories unfold, Benjamin artfully depicts the gradual fading of the pure childhood world, allowing his characters to shift—sometimes reluctantly—toward adolescence and adulthood. Though written through a seemingly childlike voice, the memoir subtly betrays the adult perspective seeping through the lines, offering insights that only hindsight can provide. Benjamin resurrects his younger self with affection and honest humor, crafting a narrative that reframes boyhood and reminds readers of the necessary chaos that shapes us long before we’ve grown up.

Review by Britain Powers