Back when I was about 10, I spent a lot of my summer time at the school playground across the street from my house, where the neighborhood kids often gathered.

On one of those occasions, a couple of girls took exception to a word one of the boys — it wasn’t me — interjected into the conversation. Specifically, the boy kept repeating the word “heck.”

Now in today’s world, it seems incredible that “heck” would offend anybody. In fact, I was surprised that anybody was offended by it back then. Heck, my dad said “heck” all the time, and he was a Sunday school teacher.

Nevertheless, offense was taken, and an argument developed about whether “heck” was a naughty word. It ended when one of the girls posed a question.

“Did God ever use “heck” in the Bible?” she asked.

Well, that sort of stopped everybody, including me. I was only 10, and hadn’t had a chance to read the whole Bible yet. Having only just received my very own Bible, I was about three chapters into Matthew — that was where I started — at the time. It was probably 15 years, at least half of them wading through all that stuff in Leviticus and Numbers, before I could definitively declare that the word “heck” absolutely was not included in the Bible, at least in the King James Version.

Consequently, I rejected that girl’s argument. I decided that I could keep saying “heck,” although I was careful not to say it around that girl. She was bigger than I was and could easily have beaten me up.

Well, I guess there was some logic in that, but my 12-year-old mind wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t prone to saying “hell,” and I certainly didn’t say it just for the heck of it, especially since my mom, who seemed to hear everything I said within a quarter-mile of our kitchen, strongly, and often physically, disapproved of such language. She never yelled at my dad or me for saying “heck,” though.

To make things even more confusing, the Sunday school teacher who came to take us home from camp stopped at Hell’s Half Acre for pop on the way home. Was it really OK to stop at a place called Hell’s anything? I decided it was when I found that the place carried my favorite brand of root beer.

Eventually, I pretty much rejected the notion that uttering “what the heck” was a terrible thing to do. In fact, it’s pretty innocuous compared to a lot of other stuff people say these days. I haven’t heard anybody object to “heck” since that camp back in 1956, so I think it’s OK.

Now by this time, you’re probably wondering what the heck is the point of all this, and asking, “Like, is there a moral to this story or what?”

Well, no there isn’t. I was just letting my mind wander and that’s what it came up with.

I suppose those of you who like to analyze stuff might find some hidden meaning about religion, politics or my mental condition in there somewhere, and you’re welcome to look for it. Heck, some of you might even find a moral of your own in the story.

If you find anything, let me know.

For those of you looking for something serious, though, I guess this essay does offer something of a warning: Watch your language, or you might offend somebody who’s bigger than you are.

Worse yet, you might wind up in heck.