Skip to comments.Wonderful Days Of The Past
Posted on 03/18/2013 7:32:31 PM PDT by navysealdad
What a wonderful life we had as kids, not a worry in the world.
(Excerpt) Read more at zanylol.com ...
Just makes me sad.
I couldn’t see it.
It said to close my eyes.
I sent this to my Mom. She liked it a lot. I can remember a lot of this stuff too. We Genx’ers may be the last generation to remember any of this.
You so funny.
What is really sad is watching it and noting how many of those things are now codified child abuse/neglect or otherwise demonized.
Good times and good memories. The song says ‘50’s, but I experienced most of this later than that.
Born in 1972 and identify with everything in that video...
Now I am nostalgic... and depressed...
Thank you. The word that comes to mind is “bittersweet”.
Did I live in the last generation of childhood?
I think so.
My best friend and I would take the garden hose and create a crazy pattern across the lawn, then we’d wait until we saw a car coming in the distance, and took turns, one running the entire pattern of the hose and falling backwards into the arms of the other just as the car went by...like, well, the driver would be amazed at our stunt LOL.
But we were children. Thank God.
YES!!! I remember coming home to the whistle of mom, catching fireflies, etc...
Hell, I remember doing the Big Wheel wipe out (going as fast as you can and then ripping the brake up) and also remember Star Wars, loved it... and on and on
Just realized my kids won’t have that memory. Even if I risked the world and let them.. and something happened to them... Freepers (amongst the rest of the world) would say “WHY WEREN’T YOU WATCHING THEM EVERY SECOND!!!!!!” Heck, I was gone from time got home from school until supper or dark, whichever came first... but if I did that with my kids, the world would put me in jail.
That is just damn sad...
See my just posted post.
So many of the things we did ‘normally’ are now blacklisted. And yes, many on the right are as bad as leftists.
At 10 I used to travel miles from home on a snowmobile in the Adirondacks. We ALL did. It was NORMAL. At 13 we took motorboats on lakes fishing. At 16 we had been driving for YEARS on dirt roads.
Today? I see patents of mid teenagers refusing to let kids go to a movie alone/with friends.
Kids in the 70's: No knee pads, helmets, brakes or over-cautious soccer moms. That's just how we rolled.
Born in 1954.
Experienced almost all of this..
Was not well off, but thought I was rich.
Father worked in a factory, and so did I until graduating from college.
Had to pay my own tuition. which was fine by me.
I can remember bicycling for hours to see how many miles I could clock on the odometer on my bike, going into the next town, which was a small city, and never being concerned.
I remember standing up to a seventh grade bully, when everyone else cowered. I got punched hard, but from then on, the bully treated me with respect.
Somehow, we settled all playground and street game disputes without murder and mayhem. no one went to the hospital.
We would play baseball in the street, and occasionally broke a window, which we all chipped in to pay for.
We would play until we could not see in the dark, flop on the bed exhausted, and be up in the morning, ready to do it all over again. each day was an adventure that we scripted ourselves, with no play dates or organized play theme.
serendipity was finding enough scrap lumber and wheels to build a cart that you steered with rope, and pulling it up to the hilliest street, and taking turns defying death and traffic driving that cart downhill after a hearty push off for speed from all of your friends.
scrapes, falls, bruises, bump not attended to to, as it would take you out of the game. That is, unless you needed a tourniquet or knocked yourself unconscious.
There was morning playtime after breakfast,mthen a break for lunch. fternoon play time until you were whistled home for dinner by your dad, and each dad had a whistle, and the other kids would say that your dad was whistling for you. Then after dinner, evening play until it was too dark to play, and you’d sit around talking on the porch steps about how you would explore the world tomorrow.
The corner candy store was like a temple of delights. having money made you king, and everyone wanted to accompany you to the corner store to share in your purchases.
My older sisters would send me with money to buy cigarettes and hairspray, and bring back matches. no problem, hey I got a dime for my troubles or a quarter.maybe. and it was silver.
Ice skating on the pond at the local park when it froze in the winter, at night, hoping to see the cute blonde headed girl you were suddenly interested in.
Delivering papers six days a week and collecting on Saturday learning responsibility and how to handle customers and money.
Lots of good memories.
Love this and the music,
but it’s a new version of this presentation.
Second or third line:
The soft sell.
The subliminal sell.
Part of the change agent’s arsenal.
Don’t buy it.
For entertainment we used to lay one end of a long ladder from the floor of our porch down to the ground, and see who could walk down the rungs without falling off. We used to have a rag man who came around every so often in his horse-drawn cart and go through your trash at the curb. We had an old coal furnace, and it was a real treat for us to watch them put the coal down the chute into the coal bin.
There was a horse chestnut tree down the street from us, and we used to cut open the burrs, cut a hole in the chestnuts, and put strings through them to make necklaces. At the corner of of our street was an empty lot. We'd go there to catch grasshoppers and whatever other type of insect we could find. We used to use bedsheets and blankets to hang over the clothes line in the back yard to make tents. We'd secure them to the ground by hammering clothespins through them. I don't think there was a sheet or blanket in our house that didn't have holes in the corners from our doing this. And my Mom never bitched.
I sure miss those days.
The first time I heard “You can’t say that’’I knew the America I once knew and had grown up in as a kid had vanished.
Born in 1939. Older than dirt! I remember kerosene lamps, a wood-fired cookstove, roasting ears of corn in the oven overnight before shelling it and having it ground for corn meal, butchering a steer and several hogs for the winter larder, the smokehouse with sausage and hams and bolognas being smoked, a two-hole outhouse because no indoor plumbing or electricity until 1947, cap pistols with roll caps, hightop shoes with a little pocket on the side for a pen knife, cars with suicide doors, farming with two teams of horses and a team of mules, a push lawnmower with no engine on it, a big old floor model battery radio and listening to The Lone Ranger, and The Great Gildersleeve, Life with Riley, Inner-sanctum, The Grand Ol’ Opry, Baby Snooks, etc., coming home from a one-room schoolhouse in the afternoon and Mom ironing while listening to Just Plain Bill, and Porcia Faces Life, and Ma Perkins, etc. on the radio, going small game hunting when there actually were a lot of ringnecks, rabbits and squirrels around, trapping for skunks, muskrats, etc, and skinning them and selling the hides, going to the hatchery and getting several hundred baby chicks to raise for laying hens and for Sunday dinners, playing “ante over the shanty” by throwing a sponge rubber ball back and forth over the schoolhouse roof, listening to the local brass band at a Saturday evening Sunday School picnic, walking off into the dusk holding hands with a girlfriend and stealing an occasional smooch. Those were the days!