Can't believe you made it!
 
Can't believe you made it if you lived as a child in the 50's, 60's or 70's.
Looking back, it's hard to believe that we have lived as long as we have...


As children,
 Horrors!
  Please pass this on to others who have had the luck to grow up as kids,    
before lawyers and government regulated our lives, for our "own good."
 
 Looking back, it's hard to believe that we have lived as long as we have

My Mom used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread mayo on the same cutting
 board with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to get food  poisoning.

  My Mom used to defrost hamburger on the counter AND I used to eat it raw
sometimes too, but I can't remember getting E-coli.

 

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors, or cabinets, and  when we
rode our bikes we had no helmets.

  We played with toy guns, cowboys and Indians, army, cops and robbers, and
used our fingers to simulate guns when the toy ones or my BB gun was not  available.

 

Some students weren't as smart as others or didn't work hard so they  failed a grade
and were held back to repeat the same grade. That  generation produced some of the
greatest risk-takers and problem solvers.  We had the freedom, failure, success
and responsibility, and we learned  how to deal with it all.

  Almost all of us would have rather gone swimming in the lake instead of a  pristine
pool (talk about boring), the term cell phone would have conjured  up a phone in a jail
cell, and a pager was the school PA system.

  We all took gym, not PE . . . and risked permanent injury with a pair of  high top
Ked's (only worn in gym) instead of having cross-training  athletic shoes with air
cushion soles and built in light reflectors. I  can't recall any injuries but they must
have happened because they tell us  how much safer we are now. Flunking gym
was not an option. . .even for  stupid kids! I guess PE must be much harder than
 gym
.

  Every year, someone taught the whole school a lesson by running in the  halls with
leather soles on linoleum tile and hitting the wet spot. How  much better off would we
 be today if we only knew we could have sued the  school system.


Speaking of school, we all said prayers and the pledge and stayed in  detention
after school and caught all sorts of negative attention for the  next two weeks.
We must have had horribly damaged psyches.

  I can't understand it. Schools didn't offer 14 year olds an abortion or  condoms
(we wouldn't have known what either was anyway) but they did give  us a couple

of aspirin and cough syrup if we started getting the sniffles.  What an archaic
health system we had then. Remember school nurses? Ours  wore a hat and
everything.

 
I thought that I was supposed to accomplish something before I was  allowed to
be proud of myself.
 
I just can't recall how bored we were without computers, PlayStation,  Nintendo,
X-box or 270 digital cable stations. I must be repressing that  memory as I try to
rationalize through the denial of the dangers could  have befallen us as we
trekked off each day about a mile down the road to  some guy's vacant lot, built
forts out of branches and pieces of plywood,  made trails, and fought over who got
to be the Lone Ranger.
 
What was that property owner thinking, letting us play on that lot? He should have
been locked up for not putting up a fence around the property,  complete with a
self-closing gate and an infrared intruder alarm.
 
Oh yeah . . . and where was the Benadryl and sterilization kit when I got that bee sting?
I could have been killed!

We played king of the hill on piles of gravel left on vacant  construction sites and
when we got hurt, Mom pulled out the 48 cent  bottle of Mercurochrome and then
we got our butt spanked. Now it's a trip  to the emergency room, followed by a
10-day dose of a $49 bottle of  antibiotics and then Mom calls the attorney to sue
the contractor for  leaving a horribly vicious pile of gravel where it was such a threat.

  We didn't act up at the neighbor's house either because if we did, we got  our butt
spanked (physical abuse) . . . and then we got our butt spanked  again when we got home.

  Mom invited the door to door salesman inside for coffee, kids choked down  the dust
 from the gravel driveway while playing with Tonka trucks  (remember why Tonka
trucks were made tough . . . it wasn't so that they  could take the rough Berber in th
family room), and Dad drove a car with  leaded gas.

  Our music had to be left inside when we went out to play and I am sure  that I nearly
exhausted my imagination a couple of times when we went on  two week vacations.
I should probably sue the folks now for the danger they  put us in when we all slept
in campgrounds in the family tent.

Summers were spent behind the push lawnmower and I didn't even know that  mowers
came with motors until I was 13 and we got one without an automatic  blade-stop or an
auto-drive. How sick were my parents?

Of course my parents weren't the only psychos. I recall Donny Reynolds  from next
door coming over and doing his tricks on the front stoop just  before he fell off. Little
did his Mom know that she could have owned our  house. Instead she picked him up and
swatted him for being such a goof. It  was a neighborhood run amuck.
 

To top it off, not a single person I knew had ever been told that they  were from a
dysfunctional family. How could we possibly have known that we  needed to get
 into group therapy and anger management classes? We were  obviously so duped
by so many societal ills, that we didn't even notice  that the entire country wasn't
taking Prozac!

 How did we survive?