It's 9AM
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We built a ramp three feet off the ground from scrap wood and cinder blocks.
Then channeled our inner Fall Guy and raced our bikes as fast as we could peddle to hit it.
And fly.
We flew a lot.
I don’t see kids doing it today.
I don’t see kids riding bikes much today.
Occasionally, maybe.
Every summer, we were shoved out of the door and it was locked behind us.
We had instructions.
Be home when the streetlights come on.
Other than that, it was feral and sweaty and filled with adventures.
Tadpole hunting in ditches and creeks.
Forts built in wooded areas, and defended against encroachment with rock fights.
My brother attached to my hip.
Another instruction given more than most.
“Watch your brother.”
It meant he better not get hurt.
But we did.
A lot.
Scraped knees, bloody elbows and more road rash than most kids today couldn’t deal with.
I had a friend post on Facebook about how hot it was.
He asked a question…
Wasn’t it hotter growing up?
It was.
The summers were longer because they lasted from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and they were packed with lots of sunshine and little air conditioning.
My grandparents used fans and I remember when Papaw installed two window units in the house.
One in the den where they watched television.
The second in their bedroom.
Both used only on days when the heat in the house got too unbearable.
Which was the summer of breaking records.
They were acclimated to the heat.
Him from working outside all the time and her from growing up in it.
Now, everyone spends all their time in climate controlled settings, from home to car to work and back again.
No chance to be warm.
No chance to be cold.
Just the hint of either means cranking the dial up or down and blasting the blower as needs must.
Anything to avoid a moment of discomfort.
Like playing in the sun.
Or ramping bikes.
Some folks were rich enough to live in neighborhoods with sidewalks.
We didn’t.
We had ditches that lined both sides of the street, but we were lucky.
Because we had driveways on both sides of the house.
We built our ramps in the front yard, between the driveways.
And got to race along the street at whatever top speed we could imagine, whip into the driveway and hit the ramp to ride for glory.
Landing could go either way.
Into the ditch.
Into the yard.
Or busting in the driveway.
We did all three.
Permanent scars from some, where rocks dug into skin, or scrapes were just deep enough to last forever.
I remember a car slowing down to watch my brother hit the wood, and honking in approval as he nailed the dismount.
Sliding sideways like a stuntman and swinging the back end of his hand me down bicycle around, shooting up a rooster tail of dust and pea gravel.
We drank a victory toast from a garden hose, and did it all again.
Until the street lights popped and hummed in a cold white glow reminding us it was time to go home.
Are you playing outside still?
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I often think back on the differences between how my childhood was compared to how kids today grow up. And I would take my childhood over there's every time. Sure we didn't have AC, color tv and computers. But we had something the majority of kids today don't. Imagination and the advantage of learning things by doing. My parents didn't keep me locked in the house. They opened the door and let me explore and experience things. These were called life lessons. And if you came home with scrapes and bruises it was just part of growing up. And you found out early in life that there were ramifications for the thing you did. Both Good and Bad. But you learned your lessons and you moved on. Today it seams like parents what to stick kids in some kind of bubble. Where nothing can get at them. And they are never giving the opportunity to Live and Grow. Where if you drink water out of a hose in your back yard. You are going to die. And if you get scraped up a little from something you did is bad. These things don't kill you. They make you a Well Rounded Individual. And Teach You how to handle things later in life. And I know I grew up in a small city in the late 60's and early 70's. In the mid west. And life wasn't Prefect or Easy. But I Survived and Moved on to Adulthood. And I have made my share of Mistakes and did Stupid Things. But I always knew I was Responsible for my Actions. And my Childhood with all the Scrapes and Bruises. Helped Prepare Me For Life.
Not everyone grew up in the suburbs with streetlights and sidewalks as columnists like to present mid-20th century America. I lived in the country which had neither street lights nor sidewalks. We played in the woods and streams ( except in the hottest part of the summer when the streams dried up.) but biking would be tricky on narrow country roads. Getting to a friend’s house meant arranging transportation, which meant parents were involved and we were either home before dinner or spent the night at the friend’s.
Don’t get me wrong, kids always love the freedom of summer, but for some of us starting school meant seeing friends again.