This was me in the mid sixties to the mid seventies. Ate breakfast in the summer and came back for dinner. No shoes. Play was sandlot, solo biking and playing in the “woods”. Three channels on TV, AM radio and real Christmas spirit.
Merry Christmas,
David DeGerolamo
10 responses to “This”
So BLESSED to have been born in 1964 (still consider myself Gen X, regardless of their arbitrary cutoff dates), enjoyed ALL of that, went through puberty when Farrah, Mary Ann, Ginger, Genie, Samantha, and all the rest populated the limited airways. I grew up in the Los Angeles area so PBS showed Monty Python at midnight (super funny with some nudity). I enjoyed the “Valley” before it became a joke, after the worst of the air pollution had been cleaned up, and way before the entire region went to hell. Got out of CA well before 9-11 and have never looked back. But indeed, what a great time to be a kid.
Thank you, I was born in 1964. When I attended college in 1982 they considered us Generation X. Boomers were the children who were born of WW2 vets. My parents were born to folks who fought in WW2 and they experienced the Happy Days life, pinball, Vietnam Draft and Muscle Cars.
We had no draft, but experienced gas lines, stagflation, high interest rates, MTV and early video games like Pong along with Video Arcades and lousy 4 cylinder cars with no acceleration along with meat shortages.
Billy Idol’s first band was “GEN X” and that guy was born in 1955.
Exactly expressed my gut feelings about how blessed I was growing up
Thatʻs me on steroids beginnng in 1945 and lasting until 1962ish basicly. Then it started going south a bit. And what I know from my folks and grandfolks seemed to make my experiences rather pale when compared to theirs. The WWII GIs brought home discipline, responsibility and accountability to my generation. And my butt suffered because every adult looked out for all of my cohort. My friendʻs mom took issues with something I shouldnʻt have done, spanked me and sent me home. Then called my mom and I got dose number two from mom and then I had to face my dad that evening. Ouch.
Born in 63,carried a knife in school and hunting guns in trucks during the season,no worries. Bicycled/dirt biked/built forts/shot a lot/fireworks/camping all weekend and the list is endless.
Closest thing to a play date was someones birthday party.
Yep,grew up a bit feral and also had a great soundtrack to being a kid and teen!
We indeed didn’t know how good we had it. Or that we were the last ones. There are very few children raised this way today. We built the wealth and prosperity of the late 20th century, and let the politicians piss it away.
Born in 1951, growing up huckelberry fin. You bet I was blessed running from sun up till sun down.
Grew up in 50’s & 60’s. That wasn’t “GenX,” it was “T-Rex.” It was freedom with responsibility wrapped into one.
Ordered, from Sears catalog, a Marlin .22 for (IIRC) $29.99, delivered to my home; got the ammo from the local hardware store, where the proprietor sold it to me without ID, SWAT or a lecture. The idea that I would ever aim the muzzle at a living human was inconceivable.
While the family went to the Bronx to see my grandparents, my sister & I were given a nickel each, with which we entered the NYC subway system at Theriot Avenue, navigated throughout the system, all the way to the foot of Manhattan Island, staying within the bounds of the city, never hopping a turnstile.
To arrive back at Grandma’s by dusk, for dinner, unmolested and invigorated, problem-solving all day.
For five cents.
My childhood was, indeed, challenging and almost carefree; never owned a new bicycle but also never felt the “need” for one; my bikes were fashioned from junk parts that my dad & I scavenged from neighbors on junk days, then we cobbled together the best parts to make fast, easy-to-pedal ‘loosy-goosy’ bikes that all my friends liked better than their new, stiff, tight and hard-to-pedal rides.
By eight or nine YOA I no longer needed my dad’s guidance to repair/rebuild my bike. I was, by then, self-sufficient.
More importantly, I never felt the disappointment or anxiety that comes from the belief that I “didn’t have enough.”
Our family made do or did without–without needing psychiatric care, a charitable handout or a soup kitchen. Credit? To purchase something for which I hadn’t the cash? Never happened!
We were poor by today’s standards, but what a blessing to not know or care.
Today’s “psychopaths in training”–my granddaughters–live in a state of being that is inconceivably saturated with material things.
Yet I, the grandfather, know that it was I who was blessed in my childhood.
Why do I know this? Partly because, in my day, a white panel truck contained a plumber or an electrician; today, it may represent a child predator, which is why I, CCW in pocket, guard those girls with my fullest attention.
Brave New World?
Not by a long shot.
I remember all of this. Thank you for sharing and provoking great memories.
Merry Christmas to you