I grew up in a housing project in buffalo,ny.
On saturdays in the spring, I would be up shorly after dawn to fix my own frosted flakes.
I would throw to bologna sandwiches and two bottles of pop into the basket of by bicycle along with fishing gear.
The nearest stream in suburbia was about 12 miles away.
If I wanted supper, I had to be home at 5pm.
After supper, outside until the street lights came on.
What the hell’s happened ?
Your childhood sounds a lot like mine, except I would leave the back of the house with my fishin pole and bread for dough balls, raid my grandmother’s garden for ripe cucumber and a tomato to put int he spring brach for keeping cool, then hoof it to the lake for swimmin’ and fishin’ with my best friend, Bill Rhodes. Usually got home by dark. Learned to like cold supper leftovers. Usually my punishment for missing supper was I had to clean up the dishes. I always loved it when my Mother made scrambled eggs for supper ‘cause I loved scrapping the crumbles fromt he skillet and eating them. I once told a college friend who caught me doing it at the apartment we shared that ‘I’ve grown to prefer them.’