Posted on 06/13/2014 9:42:55 AM PDT by grundle
Not sure about #4.
I wish my grandkids could chase the DDT man like I used to.
Need one of these.
11). Teach your kids to cuss....just like Mom.
Love it.
In the 70’s I was a kid who had orchards, grapvines, and watermelon patches all around. My friends and I would hop on our bikes in the morning and not return until the street lights came on. We knew most of the farmers, and the Ice House was half way between home and Smith Mountain. Perfect for those 100 degree days and you needed to cool off.
Drank straight from the wells used for irrigation. Ate watermelon, tomatoes, pomegranates and grapes fresh from the vine.
There was a great “literary magazine stash” that young boys learned from and laughed at by the railroad tracks.
Drank the Hawaiian Punch syrup straight from that big can. Yum.
i guess i can check that one off my list...
Sounds like how I raised my kids in the 80’s and 90’s.
Potato guns made out of old PVC pipes are fun. As are your own bows and arrows made from string, bird feathers and sticks
And keep catching the same stupid fish, the only fish, that lives in the pond across the street. And he’s only there because you caught him somewhere else, put him in a bucket of water ad dumped him into the pond.
And only Grandpa got to watch the one TV in the house, and he just watched sport, the stock market report and the MacNeil Lehrer news hour. Don’t like that, too bad.
for me, i could not and would not do number 5...
Thanks to Jimmy Carter, the nations 2nd worst president, thanks to the current one.
When I last visited the town in the mid 1990s, two of those four had turned into parking lots, one of them had become a porno theater with creepy people going in and out.
The last one had been preserved and carefully restored by the local historical society and was a wonderful site to behold. Only it didn't sell cheap tickets for children's movies-- those places had all moved to the malls outside of town. It sold $20 tickets for groups from the 50s, 60s and 70s making nostalgia or farewell tours.
step one: confiscate their cellphones, ipads, laptops and remove all power supplies from desktops.
step two: the kids will figure out step two for you.
Speaking as someone who grew up as a kid in the 1970s, brilliant list.
Unfortunately, my mother sent me against my will to summer camp. One month of day camp and one month of sleepaway camp. I hated camp. I wanted to stay home and play with my friends in the neighborhood. I wanted to see all the tv shows and movies that aired during the daytime that I missed due to usual school hours. I wanted to be able to stay up late and sleep late, etc.
Camp was torture. Boring. And it didnt help that I got bullied by both campers and counselors. The campers and counselors that didnt bully me, turned a blind eye to those who did.
In one sleepaway camp I wrote home every day about the miserable time I was having and the abuse I took from camoers and counselors. After the month was up and I went home, I discovered that with the exception of 4 innocuous postcards of mine, they never mailed any of my complaints home.
Speaking as someone who grew up as a kid in the 1970s, brilliant list.
Unfortunately, my mother sent me against my will to summer camp. One month of day camp and one month of sleepaway camp. I hated camp. I wanted to stay home and play with my friends in the neighborhood. I wanted to see all the tv shows and movies that aired during the daytime that I missed due to usual school hours. I wanted to be able to stay up late and sleep late, etc.
Camp was torture. Boring. And it didnt help that I got bullied by both campers and counselors. The campers and counselors that didnt bully me, turned a blind eye to those who did.
In one sleepaway camp I wrote home every day about the miserable time I was having and the abuse I took from campers and counselors. After the month was up and I went home, I discovered that with the exception of 4 innocuous postcards of mine, they never mailed any of my complaints home.
I grew up in the 70’s, and my summers consisted of my parents cutting us loose after breakfast, and telling to come home when the sun set, or if you were hungry. Playing kickball in the street ‘til midnight was common. My Wife cringes in fear with all of the things I let my boys get away with. I survived childhood, and with a few scars, and so can they.
No way #2 is happening around here.
Ah yes... great things happen near the railroad tracks... step "step 2" in my previous post.
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