Reposted from something I read way back in 2016… oh how the years have changed.
Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing…
Source: Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?
This…is amazing. This is how we grew up.
I remember playing on a tennis court…. with my roller skates. Bouncing off the net. The little boy I was babysitting at the time untied the string that held the net up…. I didn’t notice. I proceeded to skate towards the net to bounce off of it and flipped straight forward and landed right on my face. I was about 12 years old.
One very bloody busted mouth (not lip…mouth) later and a huge scrape running from my chin to my nose later, I snuck into my house avoiding my mom at all costs. I hid my face. I didn’t cry. Back then we weren’t softies. We did drink from the hose and stayed outside from dusk til dawn. We used the community dumpsters as playgrounds lol
One of the more horrific injuries I sustained as a child was when a popcicle stick went through the back of my throat. No, not the flat wooden ones, the round push-pop ones. I recall being very tired all of a sudden and falling asleep only to wake up in a pool of blood all over my brand new airbrushed sweatshirt. I was more bummed out about the sweatshirt since I didn’t get nice new things very often.
Now I look at my own kids and think, holy smokes….my kids are woosies. They need bandaids for small scratches and whine when they have a tummy ache. No they aren’t babies either. They are 7, 12 and 15. My 15 year old has missed more school in a year than I did in a lifetime due to “stress” at school and what he perceives in his life. (Oh English class…. you are so cruel!!)
No matter the troubles I had at home, I always worked hard to get good grades. Back then we weren’t given a choice. It was do or die….or perhaps just grow up to be a loser like we saw in tv specials.
I thought this blog post really spoke about how things have changed and completely identify with all of it. I was pushing a vacuum at 4 years old and made to sit and pick out every single piece of anything in the carpet if I messed up and vacuumed the wrong thing. My kids can barely keep their rooms clean…..