Children today have so many things my generation never dreamed of: television; the internet; online home schooling; school buses and mothers with SUVs to drive them everywhere; neighborhood swimming pools; electronic everything . . . and also, unfortunately, online bullying, stalkers, and something called Child Protective Services.

But there are so many things they will never know, and they are the poorer for it. Things that all added up, in my day, to the freedom of childhood.

First, kids of my generation were virtually worry-free. Their concerns were pretty much limited to the grades on their report cards, what gifts Santa would leave under the tree, and whether the little boy or girl they currently liked would ever notice them. They didn’t worry about nuclear war, or climate change, or COVID, or whether there might be a recession. Because if any of those things had even threatened their little world, no responsible adult would ever think of discussing it in front of the kids.

They rode their bikes or tricycles all over the neighborhood — without helmets. I’m not sure anyone even made helmets for kids in those days. They sat unrestrained in the family car, because seat belts didn’t exist. They played in the dirt, and only washed their hands before dinner but not with antibacterial soap, because it didn’t exist. They drank from each other’s soda bottles, and ate little dots of candy that had to be peeled from long strips of paper, and little wax “bottles” filled with some unidentified sugary liquid. And they ate chips of ice cut from the big block in the iceman’s truck.

My friends and I didn’t have play dates; we just went outside, found whatever other kids were out at the time, and got together. We played silly games, skipped rope, rode bikes or roller skated together, got up scratch softball teams, or just hung around talking about what to do next. And when it was time for dinner, or just about dark, our parents called out to us and we went back inside.

We got a kick out of catching lightning bugs and putting them into glass jars that had air holes punched in the metal lids. We tried counting the stars in the night sky, or picked dandelions and clover flowers to make bouquets for our mothers. We lay on the grass and imagined animal shapes in the fluffy white clouds. We played tag or hide-and-seek, and when we fell down and scraped our knees, we waited until it was time to go inside for the night before reporting it to our mothers because we didn’t want to be kept indoors any earlier than necessary. And nobody lost a leg from the dirt in the wound.

Kids today have a lot more “stuff” — more high-tech toys and games, more access to information, more cool clothes, lessons in everything, “quality time” with their parents. But what they don’t have, and will never know, is the freedom and joy of just being kids. Of being left alone to use their imaginations and make up their own games with their own friends, without parental oversight. Or being shielded from the sordid side of life, and worrying about nothing more than getting their arithmetic homework done before bedtime.

I feel kind of sorry for them, because I remember those years as the very best years of my life, and I wonder what memories will follow today’s kids throughout the years to come.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/25/23