From the first day of first grade to the day I graduated High school (1966-1978) I had a knife in my pocket.
When I was four, my parents and I took a road trip to visit my grandmother. I spent nearly the ENTIRE 400-mile one-way trip STANDING on the seat beside my dad, who was driving.
Civil Defense drills. (I grew up in a BIG military town!) Learning how to build a temporary shelter that would “protect” me from the radiation. Never look at the flash, drop to the ground, roll to the corner of the building, lie face-down and cover your neck with your hands.
Being disciplined by complete strangers.
BB-guns in the hands of EVERY neighborhood boy… and some of the girls, too.
My father teaching me the PROPER way to use a slingshot.
I got a little red bible given to me in grade 5. In elementary they wouldn’t let us even go outside the fence to get a frisbee. We had “write ups” come along in about grade 7. Instead of a detention you get and level one write up which is a warning. Level 2 is a phone call home. Level 3 is a action plan (no idea what that is, i never got one ;)) Level 4 is expellation. I had a friend get one for throwing a penny. A friken penny. High school is more leanant. We can leave the school grounds and we aren’t under constant supervision.
Another one here who preferred to stay in the car while mom went shopping.
And I always rode in the cargo area of our pickup truck (at least it had a cap, so I wasn’t going to get blown out riding from Boston to Maine and back on I-95). The cargo area of the station wagon was also a favorite.
And Jarts were the coolest toys. My friends and I would just fling them straight up to see how high they’d go.
I practically lived in the cargo area of my family’s station wagon growing up. Especially on long trips, when my little sister would stretch out on the passenger seat and sleep. I never wore a seat belt until I began to drive.
We used to take turns walking to the convenience store to buy cigarettes for my dad with no problem (late 80s). She was 9 or 10 at the time.
Kids bringing rifles and shotguns to school for their demonstration speeches.
My getting a whipping in first grade for not completeing an in-class assignment.
Trick or treating at all the houses on our street, even the one that just put a bucket filled with candy on the front steps with a note to not ring the doorbell or bother them. They had sorry candy anyway.
Another kid in a hot car in the summer here, especially when we stayed with my aunt. Six of us in a broken down station wagon parked at the top of a sloped parking lot, with the keys in the ignition so we could listen to the radio.
Surely they gave out bibles because they were asuming you WEREN’T a Christian? I mean, if someone tells me they are a christian, I’d assume they owned at least one bible…
When I was little my dad had a 1966 Ford Galaxy 500 – midnight blue, 7-litre engine, police interceptor package. It had bucket seats (does anyone remember “bench” seats in cars?). If I was good, I’d be allowed to sit on the centre console, which was known as the “treat seat”. Also, dad would sometimes let me sit on his lap and steer if we were just in the neighbourhood.
Maybe in Canada, things are different, but my friend (yes, I only had one in elementary) and I would do all sorts of stuff. We usually wouldn’t go too far, but if we said we were going to wander around, our parents wouldn’t stop us. They’d usually ask when we’d be back and to maybe wear a helmet, that’s about it.
Being short of parks in the neighborhood I grew up, we regularly used to go into the storm drain tunnels, and occasionally mess around in the city dump. No way would I do those things now, on account of pollution fears.
We used to ride in an open trailer at freeway speeds for hours. Wouldn’t be done, now.
And, of course, there’s a whole range of “teen boy” activities that would get one arrested nowadays. Pretending we were shot (or shooting) in public. “Kidnapping” a friend’s sister by throwing bag over her head and pushing her in a car. Pretending that nerve gas had hit the main corridor in high school, while walking through with gas masks. Sigh. No one really minded. Those were the days.
Now we have computer games. No wonder they evoke so much repressed violence.
I was watching the Game Show network not too long ago, and “I’ve Got A Secret” came on. I’m thinking it was from the late 50’s. The contestant’s secret was she had ten kids(!), but the shocker was one of her prizes. A carton of delicious, refreshing Winston cigarettes. I was agog.
I used to ride sitting on the back of my dad’s toolbox in the pickup bed. I could see over the cab while zooming down the highway. It was fun. This was clearly prior to seat belt laws.
Seatbelts? HA! I used to sleep in the back window of my parents’ '62 Ford Impala during long road trips (huge window shelf, big enough to hold a 6-year old). Those vinyl seats would get quite hot - the window was a more comfy place.
Wasn’t this article shown somewhere to be a fake? I seem to remember so, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now.
Speaking of the “wear a helmet” thing… I was watching kids ride bikes (now with the mandatory helmets, naturally) and I thought to myself, “Man, I’m glad I am not a kid today.” I’m sure it’s safer and all, but wearing a helmet while riding a bike drains all the fun and freedom out of it. We obviously NEVER wore helmets while biking, and we did some pretty damn dumb things on our bikes.
I used to crash my bike on purpose because it was fun to fly through the air ass over teakettle and land in a tangle of arms and legs. Somehow I managed to never injure myself.
Heck, I remember when I played football in fourth grade, the entire team (40 or so of us) piled in the back of 2 pickup trucks and drove about 2 hours up to have a scrimmage with a team. This was totally unannounced, so parents just dropped their kids off, and came back later to find us all gone. Man, that was fun, 20 kids in one truck singing dirty songs.
At six or seven, I was allowed to wander around the supermarket by myself while my mother did her shopping. About a year later, I could do the same at K-mart, though I gravitated to the electronics or book sections.
During summer vacations, I got to stay home alone all day starting at age 9. I walked to the supermarket and the public library (some 15 blocks away.)
Growing up in Northern VA in the '70s, I used to see Confederate flags. There was even an outfit called “Dixie Decorators” which had a van with a huge Rebel flag painted on the side!
Oh, I’ve got another one. When I was a kid, Looney Tunes used to show ALL the old cartoons. You think Speedy Gonzalez is racist? No way. I remember Japanese guys with big buck teeth, big thick glasses, and of course they were devious cowards. I remember the most stereotypical black people you could ever think of (watermelon-lovin, big lips, the whole 9). I remember the bad accents and dialect.
