My curfew was lightening bugs. My parents didn’t call my cell, they yelled my name. I played outside, not online. If I didn’t eat what mom cooked, I didn’t eat.
This was a perfect representation of my childhood. So different than the childhood that my boys live today, and it saddens me.
When I was little, my friends and I would play outside until the street lights came on. That was our signal it was time to go home. My parents didn’t worry about my safety because I was in the confines of my neighborhood.
I didn’t have a cell phone until I was 19 years old, and that was only because I had just moved to a new city and it was used as more of a “precautionary action” than anything else. It wasn’t used in place of my home phone, or as a means to communicate via text with my friends.
I could ride my bike to my friend’s house without worry of safety on my parents’ part. As long as I was home when the street lights came on, it was all good.
My grandparents did not quiz my parents to see if they proactively looked for child molesters in our area.
I was allowed to walk along a main street to the library, only 1 3/4 miles up the road. My best friend Stacy and I would walk to the library to pick books to read for the coming week.
My friends and I would jump on the bus to the mall, and hang out there for a few hours – without any form of communication with our parents.
So what do you make of all of this? Why the change from then to now? Fine it was 30 years ago (yes, I am dating myself), but it makes me so sad that my boys cannot live the carefree life that I did without concern.