I’m not sure if it’s unthinkable, but I always thought it was odd how freely the female PE teacher would go into the boys’ lockerroom at my high school (1999-2003). Granted the ball storage room (no pun intended) was through there and normally she’d wait until the we came out into the gym. Occasionally she’d catch a latecomer changing or using the toilet (no stall doors :eek: and the storage room was past them). Sometimes after class she’d need to talk to the male PE teacher and just yell a warning and come in while we were still changing. Granted we were all wearing boxers and the showers were almost* never used by anyone. We all thought it was strange, but the male PE teachers didn’t give it a 2nd thought, but somehow I doubt any male teacher who set foot in the girls’ lockerroom would still have a job by dismissal.
*On school picture day she once caught 3 naked football players coming out of the shower after a morning class.
How funny, the second I read the title that was what I was going to bring up! I clearly remember my mother smoking in the grocery store, and hundreds of butts stamped out on the floor, because it was hard tile or hard linoleum and could take it. GROSS.
And I also remember being able to smoke in the hospital…the only reason it was a problem with my mother is because she was in for suspected emphysema. Had it been anything else, no sweat.
I’m 50, by the way. And LOVING “Mad Men” just for the memory lane of it all.
Ralph’s grocery stores had the infamous “Plain Wrap” brand- white packaging with a blue stripe, on which was written the name of the food- beer, bread, sugar, whatever. You could buy white t-shirts with a blue stripe that said “t-shirt.”
In November 1971, when my twin and I were 8 years old, we walked 3 miles out to the Bangor International Airport to see David Cassidy get off a plane. We didn’t ask our mom first and she didn’t freak out when she found out about it. We were really broke then so there was no money for tickets to the concert. But, we finally begged and begged so mom took some of my brother’s birthday money and some rolled pennies and brought us to the Bangor Auditorium. To her credit she brought us to our seats and then left, leaving us with phone money to call for a ride when it was over. We were too short to reach the payphones so we walked the two miles home. Yes, there was snow on the ground. And, yes, it was night time when the concert ended. Was mom frantic when we got home because we didn’t call? Well, if you call reading with your feet up frantic…
I think the fact that you could see a concert with a 3 year old’s birthday money and a roll of pennies is not the only unthinkable part of this story.
Do people really not let their kids run around anymore? Maybe it’s just my neighborhood, but there are packs of kids on their bikes and walking in the streets around where I live, and they don’t seem to go in until 9 or so. I would guess these packs are aged 6-14, and I never see parents in sight. I live in a pretty safe place, though. I wish those damn kids would move out of the street! So cocky, if you honk they just walk slower.
ETA: I was born in 1979, and I remember walking down to the cornerstore all the time to buy my dad’s smokes. I was probably as young as 6 when I started making the walk, gave me something to do. Nobody gave a damn.
You had to be on a farm with cattle for this but we played this game where we dipped used corn cobs (the cattle and horses had chewed all the kernels of corn off the cob) in cow shit and threw the doctored cobs at one another - a kind of free-for-all tag game. With brothers and sisters and cousins there might be eight to ten kids doing this. It was easy to get blind sided. Parents either turned a blind eye or didn’t know even though we came home smelling of cow shit.
Are there still hay rides? I’ve never been on one but I remember they piled loose hay on top of bales in a large wagon and had a horse pull it through country lanes with young people piled on top of the hay. I think this was part of the courting ritual in the fifties when I was growing up. I don’t recall stories of people falling off the wagon but this would probably be considered too dangerous, not to mention suggestions of semi-sanctioned opportunities for nooky, in this day and age.
Frog gigging - we would wire the shafts of three large fish hooks together such that the barbs projected outward at sixty degrees. We would then go down to the river bank and find frogs. We would the dangle this hook assembly by a fishing line from a stout pole so that it was positioned the barbs just below the frog’s chin. We would jerk the line upwards and the barbs would impale the frog in the chin/neck area. Frog legs for dinner. Frogs were plentiful in the fifties. Not so now.
A former staple of sitcoms was the bar drunk. Bewitched comes to mind- their drunk- who appeared on several episodes and always witnessed Samantha’s magic- was played by Dick Wilson, who later gained fame and fortune playing Mr. “Please don’t squeeze the Charmin” Whipple, but several other sitcoms had them as well, usually an old guy who pipes up with some totally oddball take on whatever’s going on.
You don’t see those much anymore. At most a member of the cast gets a little tipsy. Not exactly a scholarly source admittedly, but Arte Johnson of Laugh In fame, who played the drunk on a couple of guest appearances, was on an interview show a couple of years ago and said that this was now unthinkable due to modern sensibilities. Instead you’re more likely to get a “special episode” in which the cast recognizes someone has a drinking problem. (Of course the episode when Roseanne/Dan/Jackie get (improbably) high on a 20 year old joint was hysterical, but did get a lot of mail.)
The closest it comes now is the comedic stoner- Tommy Chong on That 70s Show for instance. (I don’t know how That 70s Show got away with the pot round table unless it’s the fact you never actually saw the pot.) I wonder if you could have a character like Reverend Jim anymore (who never used drugs on camera but clearly was a junkie), or for that matter the TAXI episode where Latka discovers his grandmother’s secret recipe in her cookies was coca leaves.
Re-watch Pete’s Dragon some time- not only is Mickey Rooney the town drunk, but he practically has the Dts… Actually, he thinks that exactly what it is when he sees Elliott.
It was jarring to see- and I don’t remember it being even notable when I was a kid.
It seemed one could freely drink beer while driving in the car. My dad always bought a “40” of Budweiser from 7-11 to drink on his commute home from the auto shop. He often had empties floating around the back of his car. Once we were at a park taking a walk and we both got thirsty. Dad knew of a water pump that pumped spring water, so we collected Budweiser empties from the back seat and filled them up with water to drink from. I think I was about 7 years old. Drinking water out of a 40-oz dark brown Budweiser bottle. In the front seat of the car. While driving home from this park on a very busy highway. No seatbelt of course (Our '74 Nova didn’t have them).
My friends and I LOVED candy cigarettes and truly thought we looked cool puffing sugar out of them.
I sat in my mother’s lap in the front seat of the car until I was about 5 years old. Then I was relegated to the back where I bounced around freely. Of course if I was with one parent in the car I sat in front, sometimes on the floorboard facing my seat if I wanted to draw a picture or color. My uncle had one of those souped-up conversion vans in the early 80’s, with shag carpeting from top to bottom, a real refrigerator, cabinets, and even a little mini-bar. Once those doors were closed it was pretty much Studio 54 for the duration of the ride.
My grandmother once was able to walk onto an airplane with us for one last goodbye hug and kiss when we took a plane ride to New Mexico (from DC) in about 1982. No ticket, no ID, no anything. She just stood in the aisle chatting with us until the stewardess told her we were about to take off.
My high school was brand new when I started, but a neighboring school that was built in the 50’s had a student smoking lounge that I hear was used until the mid 1980’s.
My kids experience much of this. They are latchkey kids and have been since 2nd and 3rd grade. I do take them to morning care -they aren’t organized enough to get on the bus themselves. My son plays outside for hours - he does tell me where he is going. They ride their bikes throughout the neighborhood. They shoot pellet guns with Grandpa (although supervised) and set leaves on fire with a magnifying glass (not close to the house any longer though). We drop them off at the skating rink to go skating (there is some other adult we know there and we’ve made sure of that and told the kids to look for them - but we aren’t expecting them to watch our kids - just call us if we need to meet the ambulance at the hospital).
They don’t get paddled at school or home (although they have been swatted across the bottom once or twice). They do wear seatbelts. They had carseats. I didn’t smoke while pregnant.
In my experience, there are a set of kids today that are very overprotected. But there are a lot of kids going to the movie theatre by themselves at ten or eleven - mom will pick you up after the show, too. People just don’t admit it for fear of being labeled the “bad mom.”
Yes, there are still hay rides, at least in our neck of the woods. At a certain point in the fall, you can’t drive down our road on a Saturday evening without running into at least one. However, they’ve never been part of a courting ritual in my experience, or any level of sanctioned nooky. Oh, and they’re pulled by tractors, at least around here.
My husband still has one of the old hay wagons that is best for these, and we usually have several people asking to borrow it during the fall, and usually host at least one hay ride ourselves. I don’t care for them so much myself (though I’ll go to be sociable), but young kids get an enormous kick out of it.
There are still racists of course, and this is neither exclusively white or exclusively southern, but white middle aged southerners will probably especially cringe when I mention
**
The Racist Old Relatives**
I’m talking about the people who grew up, grew middle aged, and grew old under Jim Crow and who you just absolutely dreaded going out in mixed company with because there was no telling what would come from their mouth. I’m amazed no black person ever hurled a brick at my grandmother for some of her zingers.
An actual exchange when my [paternal] grandmother met a black man whose surname was her maiden name [Murdock]- since this isn’t the pit I’ll use n----r instead of the word.
And the crazy thing was she meant it as a compliment. I just hope that “Jimmy” took notes for his family history since that at least could be useful.
Even my great-aunts, two sweet old ladies who I honestly don’t believe had a racist sentiment as far as individuals were concerned, (i.e. they made no distinction in how they regarded or treated people), used the word nigra exactly the same as we’d say black or African-American. But the worst were the ones like an old bat who we had some business dealings with who’d call the black people she paid ridiculously low wages to n----r to their face (“quit that n----r yammering and git back to work!”) and then say something like “Billy doesn’t mind, he knows what he is!” These people still existed as late as the 1980s; hopefully they’re mostly extinct now.
My uncle used to tell racist jokes in front of the black guys who worked for him (who were well paid) and say “Yeah, Hank and Julius can tell ya that I might call 'em a n----r once in a while but I don’t treat 'em like it”, usually to a chorus of “Yes sir Mr. Bowles!”, and he really and truly was regarded as something of a liberal and a great guy to work for.
My brother-in-law at Christmas last year told a “funny story” about how when he was a kid his mom (who was about 40 when he was born, so she was middle aged when Jim Crow ended) used to speed up her Cadillac when black kids were in the road walking to school (the school was on their block) and “watch 'em scatter like blackbirds”. I mentioned “I’ll bet that same story’s still told in some of their families… only with slightly different depictions of your mom”. He made the comment (and he was serious) “oh nah, some of 'em worked for her later, they said they thought it was funny”. Yeah…
So much of this reminds me of Okinawa. Little kids (really little! can’t be more than 4!) walking all over the place by themselves. You see tiny, tiny kids crossing major intersections with 4 lanes of traffic during rush hour. I haven’t seen one dead on the side of the road yet, so I guess it works, but it freaks me out.
Also, the seatbelt thing. It just isn’t done here. If kids are in the car, they’re hanging from a sun visor or half way out the moon roof or something. There will usually be a “child on board” warning doo-hicky stuck on the back of the car somewhere, though, to increase safety.
People still smoke most places, and bathrooms often have ash trays in the stalls. Bleh. Very much look forward to being able to have a meal in a smoke-free restaurant again.
One thing that’s surely changed around my childhood surroundings is the amount of undeveloped land for kids to roam in. I took a tour around the place I grew up in the '80’s recently and almost all the dozens of wooded lots had disappeared under housing or industrial plants. A real shock was to find a favorite adventure spot (a ten-acre maple forest on a rocky hill) vanished - I’m talking about hundreds of tonnes of solid bedrock blown away to make room for a factory. Lots more fences and No Trespassing! signs than back in the day sealing the remaining woodlots, too. It’d be hard to play Tarzan in those neighborhoods anymore.
I’m not sure, but I think today’s kids are softer and more clueless than we used to be. They’d be in more trouble on their own. The entertainment industry doesn’t develop climbing, running and tumbling skills, nor does it deliver real-life bruises, sprains and cuts one learns to take with stride out there in the bush.
preach it, my brother and I were always speckled with healing bruises, fresh bruises old scars, new scrapes, the occasional cut or puncture from hitting a thorn tree while running, falling out of trees, falling on rocks … active kids back then would get parents now dragged in for possible abuse.
I cant think of a time between say 4 years old and puberty when I didnt have healing oopses somewhere at all times. Hell, I almost knocked out my front teeth falling off my bicycle, and it barely got noticed. If I had knocked one out, then it would have gotten noticed.
Evansville, Indiana, 1970-74.
I was in 5th grade in '74, and always building models. The (only) mall was amost 2 miles down the road. Sometimes I’d ride my bike, but it’s tough balancing your purchases on the ride home, so I’d stick out my thumb.
I can honestly say that I thought I could take care of myself if trouble arose; I was 10 or 11 by Og, I can kick your ass! I reasoned very carefully through the pros and cons, and came out on the side of hitching through sheer logic. :rolleyes:
I remember most folks who would pick me up were elderly - over 40- and were all just incredulous at my nerve/stupidity. Every one scolded me gently, but took me home (or to the mall) with never an attempt to find my parents & give them a heads up.
Quarry Cliff Diving.
Not quite Acapulco, but close. Teens died all the time.
My sisters, 7 and 10 years older, were not allowed to leave me alone at home, so I tagged along on many of their dates and adventures.
Indiana is full of abandoned quarries, all filled with rainwater. The still waters warm in the sun, and the top 15 feet or so is great. Jump from 60 or 70 feet (always feet first), and you whip right past that thermocline pretty quickly where the water always stays about 58 degrees or so. It takes your breath away at the time you can least afford it!
Now you’re down 30 feet or so, and have to struggle to get back up. The crystal-clear waters make it difficult to judge distance, so the last few feet were the worst. You’ve breathed your last air, and you still have 8 feet to go. Always an adventure.
What would you do to your 11yo if you found them doing this today?
I got to watch the open land disappear under single-family subdivisions. I was upset as a kid that the old overgrown farm/orchard was developed. It was at the outer edge of my wandering zone so it was still exotic to me. The neighborhood I moved to at 14 was still being built on a former tree farm and more subdivisions were going in around us. By that time I was really into biking and enjoyed all the unpaved roads with hills and de facto jumps.
As to the bruises, I played soccer as a kid. I thought nothing of having 30+ dime-sized bruises from the waist down. I think my mom was worried that people would think that she beat me.
Sampiro, you know you gotta hide them Brazil nuts from your old family members so as not to provoke a scene.
Honestly, I do think it may be more dangerous for wandering children just because they’re the only ones. People all over my parents’ neighborhood, which is Cul de Sac City and has no busy roads or unsafe places, drive their kids to school. Some of them drive their kids less than 500 feet. If yours are the only kids walking that 500 feet, people aren’t watching for them because they’re no longer used to seeing walking children. I’ve read that most injuries of children walking to school happen when they have to ford the river of SUVs - other moms dropping kids off run them over.
It would be a lot safer if there were more kids out there playing. My neighborhood is sharply divided a street away from me between an upscale young professional neighborhood and a poorer black one - the black kids are always on the road coming to and from the park, and they’re the only kids I see unsupervised when I’m out running. The white kids I only see in their own backyards, and they’re never alone out there. In their own backyards! The ghetto kids are a hell of a lot more polite, too - they smile and wave and haul their little siblings out of the way. The richer white kids, who I only see with their parents, don’t smile or nod or wave back. I think they lack social skills.
The grocery store in my neighborhood used to cash cheques for people, way back before debit cards or ATMs existed. They used to accept cheques, or even cash them, for teenagers who were sent on shopping trips with a parent’s cheque. This worked until some kids figured out they could take a cheque from the middle of mom’s cheque book and get it cashed. I think they stopped cashing cheques without matching ID in the early 80s.
