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Childhood's End
An incident earlier today involving the Kids has made me reflect on my own
childhood and just how free we were back then, or just how unconcerned our
own parents may have been, who knows? I've made light of some aspects of
modern childhood [1], being over protected and highly managed in vast
contrast to my own childhood, especially growing up in Brevard, North
Carolina [2].
My best friend, Duke, lived in Connestee Falls [3], a development some six
miles south of Brevard, and even passing through the entrance, it was still a
good ten minutes or so of driving, within Connestee Falls, until you reached
his home, deep in the development. The nearest neighbor … I never saw his
neighbor. His home was nestled in the forest, and I remember we spent hours
playing outside in the forest, making our way through his “backyard,” filled
with trees as far as the eye could see.
Of course, we always made sure to be back at 4:00 pm to watch Batman [4] on
channel 4, but once over, we would head right back outside to play. Unless
Duke's mom decided to serve us milk and cookies [5].
But Duke's Mom pretty much left us to ourselves for the most part.
Even when his family finally moved into Brevard proper, we would scour the
neighborhood, walking to the corner store to buy Fun Dip [6] and Sweet Tarts
[7], have clod fights (a “clod” is a small lump of hard red clay found
everywhere in that part of North Carolina) up to the winter, when we then had
slushball fights.
And then there's the bike riding. I remember on more than one occasion trying
to skid having the bike shoot out from underneath me and ending up with some
serious road rash for a kid on a bike. Then there was the time I attempted to
take a sharp turn at full tilt, not quite making the cut and ending up in a
ditch (that particular maneuver twice, in the same day before giving up on
it).
And thinking back, I remember how I learned to ride a bike. I was seven,
visiting family in Royal Oak [8] one summer (like I did every summer), when
one of my uncles took it upon himself to teach me bike riding. Training
wheels? Nope. We'll have none of that. Here, sit on the bike, and shove!
There I was, wobbling down the sidewalk. To one side grass. To the other, a
four lane road. I learned quite fast to ride a bike, if only to keep from
being killed in the process.
Why not the more quiet side street? I suspect my uncle was afraid of being
liable for my scratching one of the many parked cars along the street. Much
better to have me crash into ongoing traffic (ha ha, only half joking there).
So I've been reading articles about playgrounds getting rid of swings, monkey
bars and straight metal slides as being way to dangerous for kids nowadays.
The days of going nowhere, doing nuthin' for hours on end (but never at home)
are long gone.
What happened?
Where are the empty lots? [9]
The hot metal slides o' death? The swings of orbital injection? The monkey
bars of tooth bashing?
Or is modern life just too dangerous (Adam Walsh murder back in the
headlines) [10] anymore?
[1]
gopher://gopher.conman.org/0Phlog:2003/04/23.1
[2]
http://www.brevardnc.com/
[3]
http://www.connesteefallshomes.com/
[4]
http://www.tvtome.com/Batman/
[5]
http://www.nabiscoworld.com/chipsahoy/
[6]
http://thecandybaron.com/detail.html?2125
[7]
http://www.sweettarts.com/
[8]
http://www.ci.royal-oak.mi.us/
[9]
http://www.joannejacobs.com/mtarchives/013534.html
[10]
http://edition.cnn.com/US/9602/adam_walsh/
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