I am proud to say that I grew up during the sixties and seventies. That would be the 1960's and 1970's; just so we understand which century I am reflecting upon. Sometimes my opulent offspring ask me about what it was like going to school with Abraham Lincoln. I am sure we've all been there.
Anyway, today I was thinking about what it was like growing up in the old neighborhood. The little section of town that I grew up in was called Mapleside. Yes, it was as picturesque as a Rockwell painting. As my mind went back to my childhood Camelot, I have to say that I am thankful to have grown up at that time and even more thankful that we survived somehow without all of the modern conveniences of today.
My father had a 1966 mustang and I have vivid memories of bouncing around the backseat and flying into the back of the bucket seats with reckless abandon. There were no seat belts and I'm pretty sure that, as a baby, my mother held me in her arms in the front seat because car seats hadn't been invented back then.
We played outside for hours. Our parents never knew where we were. All my parents said was that I had to be home by the time the street lights came on. We played army and we played cowboys and Indians. We had bows and arrows and we played with BB guns.
We rode our spider bikes everywhere. If we got a flat tire we took it to Joe's Texaco and they fixed it for a quarter. We didn't wear bike helmets or sunscreen and we never used water bottles. If we got thirsty, we drank from the garden hose.
When the house phone rang we answered it without knowing who was calling. Our pointer fingers got regular exercise from dialing the telephone. Sometimes I would quietly lift up the receiver and listen to old lady Wilson's phone conversation as she shared a party-line with the Proudfoot's, Plummer's and Kirby's. Trust me, the inconvenience of a party-line had nothing to do with a party.
Our big night out was going to the Acme market. Neapolitan was about as gourmet of an ice cream flavor as you could get. There was no Starbucks; my parents bought Maxwell house in a coffee can and took it home and brewed it. As you entered the market, there was always a big box that contained clothing bargains. Over the years, I owned sweatshirts and sneakers that we bought from the Acme market.
For our school reports we used an encyclopedia. When we went to the Public Library and borrowed a book, we had to sign our name and address in a ledger and the Librarian would stamp a little card on the inside of the book with the date that the book had to be returned. There was no hand sanitizer back then and yet we survived. If we got a scrape or a cut, our mom's would apply Mercurochrome or Methylade which usually hurt worse than the actual injury.
Any open field became Memorial Stadium where we would play baseball or football. We had no fancy designer shirts with our team logo on the front or our favorite player's name across the back. We wore white t-shirts and we wrote our favorite players name on the back with black permanent marker. Our heroes were the likes of Roberto Clemente, Brooks Robinson, Mean Joe Greene and Roger Staubach.
Early on, our televisions were black and white and we changed the channel without a remote. We listened to AM radio's. There were no video game systems, so we played with things like Rock'em Sock'em Robots and Lite Brite and the game, Hands Down.
Perhaps the greatest thing about growing up in the 60's and 70's is that the childhood bonds we formed back then remain strong today. Most of my friends today are those same kids that I played with back then. And that's a good thing.
Be Well.
Bill
