"I could easily fill an entire day reading library books, creating new outfits for my Barbie out of candy wrappers, or practicing crochet chains with the giant ball of yarn my grandma gave me. Inside was full of wonder, mystery, and the life of the mind. Outside was a hellscape of insects, rusty nails, and scraped knees.... Wildness can exist indoors, but it’s not as fun.... Indoor creativity pushes the boundaries of parental patience far quicker than outdoor wildness. In the past year, as we received the indoor-kid dream directive to stay inside, I’ve never felt lonelier, less focused, or more anxious.... I’ve started to look back on those childhood summers with more fondness, making promises to my future self that I would recapture those fleeting moments of freedom whenever possible.... I’ve watched enough true-crime documentaries to want to keep my goddaughter heavily chaperoned until she turns 50, but after the year we’ve all had, I hope there’s some room for kids to take a cue from the 1980s and explore this summer."
From "Those Were the Days of Our Lives This generation will never know the true freedom — and neglect — of being an ’80s kid" by Danielle Henderson (adapted from her memoir "The Ugly Cry: A Memoir").
Take a cue from the 1980s....
Now, people who grew up in the 80s are talking about it the way we Boomers have been talking — since the 80s — about growing up in the 50s.
One day the Alphas will look back on the 20s, that golden age of freedom. I hope. But they've got to get outdoors, now, before it's too late.
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11 comments:
Wilbur writes:
"It was in the 1980s that I first noticed the absence of kids playing outside. I did not see kids playing pickup baseball or hotbox or hopscotch or tag or kill the man with the ball (a football favorite) - or any of the dozens of ways we entertained ourselves outside.
"It seemed linked to me to the wider publicizing of serial killers and child abuse, and a general notion in society that kids needed to be protected more than they ever did. In later years, video games seemed to play a huge role in this too.
"I also noticed a germ phobia developing in people generally and that it was unhealthy for kids to play outside. God forbid they get ... gulp .... dirty. The adverse consequences of this may not be fully realized yet."
Michael On The Road writes:
"From her autobiography (And So It Goes) published in the 80s, NBC's Linda Ellerbe discussed her Houston neighborhood in the 1950s. After school regularly saw hordes of her classmates playing outside. Then came television. Within 18 months the late afternoon streets were quiet as kids were parked indoors watching Bozo or Winky Dink.
"Nothing new under the sun"
Temujin writes:
"Here we go. I'm now that old guy talking about the good ole days. But...growing up in the 50s and 60s here's a few key things I remember.
"When summer came, it was the unleashing of The Great Freedom. And we (meaning me and the other kids in our neighborhood) proceeded to spend the entire summer outdoors. We played baseball (or home run derby) and kept playing ball until we literally could not see any longer. Or we went on long bike runs. Miles to the new mall (malls were a new thing then). We told no one. We just went. We had no phone on us. No internet. We left home in the morning, sometimes returning for lunch, sometimes not. Around dinner we'd get called back home. You'd hear kids' names being shouted out from the front door of their houses. Imagine that today.
We'd go home for dinner, then- BAM!- we'd be back outside for another round of Home Run Derby, or a gathering of 'the clan' on bikes at the end of the block. And we were outside until the dark got so thick and the mosquitos had sucked us dry that we had to go in. To regroup. Get some rest. Heal up for another full day the next day.
"Sometimes we'd even sometimes spend an hour or two during the day, gathering on one of our friends' covered porches. Maybe a rainy day. He'd put on a Bill Cosby record, one that we'd all heard 20 times before. But he'd play it and we'd listen and say the key lines along with the record. Cosby was so funny back then, before he was drugging women and abusing them. Or we'd go to a new housing development after the construction crew left, and climb around on the framed walls and jump into newly dug basements to see if we could climb out. Then we'd sling shingles at each other like frisbees- sometimes hitting someone in the face. Dangerous times in the suburbs. Or we'd head over to a corner store to get some comic books and candy. Or we'd go to an open field and send up a model rocket one of the kids had via an electronic starter attached to a battery we brought along. Again- just the kids, no parents. And it didn't take much. Leftover shingles at a construction site worked just fine, thank you.
"Come August one of the parents would pile about 8 of us into their station wagon and take us over to Cranbrook Academy (where Mitt Romney went to school), but not for academics. No- we went in August to watch the open practices for the Detroit Lions. At the end of practice the players, guys like Roger Brown and Alex Karras- these huge men- would come off the field sweating and dripping and thirsty, heading toward the locker room. We kids would be back-pedaling in front of them, holding out a slip of paper and a pencil, asking for their autograph. I remember one time Roger Brown, who was over 300 pounds (and in those days, that was rare- not like today) just looked at me and huffed, "You better keep moving, kid, or I'm gonna walk right over you." I was thrilled. I remember it to this day. Roger Brown talked to me. To me! That was better than an autograph. I can only imagine how giddy I would have been if he had stepped on me.
CONT'D
Temujin, continued:
"We did all of this on our own. No parents in sight, except for the woman who drove us to the Lions practices. Aside from that, we left in the morning, returning home only for lunch (sometimes) and dinner (all the time). We were out there, on our own. And I think it made us more equipped to deal with the world out there than sitting inside playing video games or trying to become a TikTok star or worrying about what someone else said about us on some social media app. Back then if someone had something to say about you, they said it to your face. And the inevitable small fight would happen, then end. And all was forgiven and everyone moved on. The next day you would be out biking with the very person you swung at the previous day. We interacted with other people and with nature- in person. And we had a blast.
"I listen to people who moan about their childhood, and how it messed them up for life and I cannot help but feel lucky, blessed. Mine was great. We were not wealthy. But I was oblivious to the struggles of my mom and dad. They let me be a kid, knowing I'd have a lifetime of work and struggle on my own coming soon enough. Summers were the best time for us kids then. I know society is sick today compared to when I was a kid and I would not feel good about my grandkids playing outside all day, with no one knowing where they were or what they were doing. You just can't do that today. So I feel bad for today's kids. They'll not know that freedom that we had."
Surfed writes:
"Our mothers had absolutely no idea where we were until it was time to be fed. In the summer we were actually banned from the house so as not to interrupt her soap operas As the World Turns and The Guiding Light. Thirsty? Drink from the hose. We ranged far and wide on our bicycles collecting pop bottles for the 2¢ return. The one hard and fast rule was be in the yard when the street lights came on. What a wonderful life. As Robert Graves wrote about another era - Goodby to all that."
Birches writes:
"My kids still play outside. I can see them with the other neighborhood kids when I drive on our street. They're usually marching around with backpacks and nerf guns or other improvised weapons. I call them the neighborhood toughs. But this is possible because we live in a place where other people have kids too. It's easier to start something with more than one or two kids. We have another neighbor with a bunch of kids as well. Guess who's houses always have other kids' knocking on the door? Both of ours. I don't allow any TV/screens until after 3pm. It works."
George writes:
"When my mother was a little girl in rural Georgia in the 1920s, she had a pet palomino pony named Pal. Or she did until a servant let Pal out of the barn. Then a freight train hit the pony. Bye-bye, Pal. Of course, there was hog killin' day when the big iron scalding pot was made ready. To de-hair the carcass. More often her mother would tell the cook to go in the backyard and get a chicken. For dinner. My mother would watch the cook grab one and whirl it over her head like a feathery centrifuge. Or maybe she chopped its head off and let it run until it dropped. Or maybe she had to do both. I don't know. That was the reality of most people's lives. Children learned early that death was part of life. Is there an app for that?"
Tom writes:
"The common thread in all of the reminiscences that you posted seems to be stay-at-home moms. I'd say that, more than screens or stranger danger, is what has changed most about kids and their out-of-school environment."
Iain writes:
"When I grew up in the '60's and '70's, we didn't watch any TV, except maybe a bit on Saturday mornings if it was raining. Nobody, neither child nor parent, worried about anything. Our neighbourhood was pretty self-contained: a few connected streets that didn't go anywhere so couldn't be used as shortcuts for drivers and hence had no traffic. We had a huge rolling ball of kids that ran up and down the longest street, going from yard to yard and playing every classic game that would mark you as racist today, like "Cowboys and Indians" and "Cops and Robbers" or that simple classic, Hide and Seek. Girls and boys played together. We built a huge rolling contraption out of wood and wheels and other parts scavenged from various garages, and ran it up and down the street with the smallest kids in it, and especially enjoyed letting it loose down the hills. I think we were kind of half-watched by every mom on the street, but only out of the corner of her eye. If anyone got hurt badly, the closest mom would call the wounded's mom and the rest of us would go on playing. Every family had a bell, and when it was time for dinner, the mom would go out and ring the bell and her kids would run home for dinner. All the other kids' bells sounded alike to me, but each knew his (or her) own. Our summons was my Dad's powerful whistle, audible through the whole neighbourhood.
"I now live about 20 miles from where I grew up, and I'm delighted that our neighbourhood is awash in kids. Once they hit first or second grade, they become part of the pack-o-kids that runs up and down the street as soon as the school bus delivers them home, on bikes or scooters or whatever, playing ball in one another's yards, jumping on trampolines, whatever. It's great to see, and it gives me a wee bit of confidence in our country's future.
"That said, when I see them waiting for the bus in the morning they are all nose-to-phone, each in his own bubble, not talking with their friends or siblings.
"But I'm happy with what I see in the afternoons, so I'll take what I can get."
Michael writes:
"I read this as the author sounding a warning. She could do very well as an indoor kid, but knows she learned and grew a lot by being outside. Last year a lot of the outside social stuff was lost and that is not a good thing even if you can live inside your own imagination."
Birches writes:
"We have a horn to call our kids in. They can hear it even the next street over if they're listening.
"See some things aren't that different, but as Tom says, there's a lot of stay at home or work from home (even pre pandemic) moms in our area."
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