When I Was a Kid

When I Was a Kid

Back in the 50s and 60s, when I was a kid, a bike was just two wheels and a promise of adventure—no helmets, just a bell on the handlebars and painted fenders. We’d ride until the sun went down, then hurry home before the street lights came on. If the chain popped off, we’d pop it back on without a backward glance and push on—everyone knew that road rash was the unofficial badge of honor.

Our streets doubled as playgrounds and stadiums. By day, we played wiffle ball with manhole covers for bases, roller-skated on smooth driveways, and ran barefoot down rain gutters after a thunderstorm. When the ice cream truck jingled around the corner, every kid dropped whatever they were doing to sprint across the lawns, clutching a nickel for a Drumstick, Popscicle, or Torpedo.

Moms never fussed if we vanished until dusk. No cell phones, no Amber Alerts—just a mother’s confidence that Maple Street and Oak Avenue were impromptu playgrounds. The idea of creepy strangers lurking? Unthinkable. Instead, neighbors looked out for each other: Mrs. Jensen would wave as we zoomed by, A neighbor’s open garage was our unofficial clubhouse, and everyone knew exactly whose kids climbed which trees. Our only deadline was dinner or when the street lights came on. No worries about creeps bothering the kids.

Saturday afternoons were a gold rush. We’d pull a little red wagon and scour streets and sidewalks for empty glass soda pop bottles. Each one had a two-cent deposit, which added up fast. Rootbeer bottles, Coke bottles, Cheerwine bottles, Seven-up bottles – all glass and all worth 2-cents.. In just one Saturday afternoon, I’d turn in enough bottles to get a handful of nickels to spend on candy bars, penny candy, or chocolate ice cream soda at the corner drug store… it was only a nickel and provided me with a seat at the soda fountain where for a few minutes I could feel grown up.

Indoor life revolved around our black-and-white TV. We’d always have a snowy picture, constantly adjusting the rabbit-ear antenna until “Leave It to Beaver” came in clear enough to see Ward’s tie and Beaver’s mischief. We would go fishing off a dock on the bay and bring a transistor radio and listen to Top 40 hits crackle through as we reeled in catfish and perch.

TV dinners were a new invention. A game-changer and so cool! Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and apple-crisp in one aluminum tray! Just pop it in the oven and you have dinner!

Breakfast was a bowl of Corn Flakes or Sugar Frosted Flakes (now called Frosted Flakes, as sugar is such a bad word now) drowned in whole milk. Lunch was a ham sandwich wrapped in wax paper, and dessert was red Jell-O.

No one fretted over trans fats or counting calories; if it tasted good and fit in your pocket, you ate it. We learned early that freedom tasted like soda pop and candy bars that cost a nickel, and left you sticky-sweet for hours.

Cameras meant Brownie cameras or Kodak box cameras, and you had to wait for days to get your pictures back. Now, cameras are ubiquitous, with cellphones providing instant pictures and videos. Cameras are on every corner and streetlight, capturing everything we do.

I understand why we have bike helmets and seat-belt laws. But honestly, I miss those wide-open afternoons: the sound of push mowers grooming the grass, the rinky-tinky music of an ice cream truck, and the thrill of turning discarded bottles into cash or going on vacation with my grandparents and taking pictures of The Great Smoky Mountains with the Kodak Brownie camera I got for Christmas.

The world wasn’t perfect when I was a kid, but it was simpler, and I loved it; it made sense, and it was ours. It shaped a generation that made its own fun, one nickel at a time.

Things were different when I was a kid.