KIDS ON THE BLOCK

I am convinced that the 50"s were the best years in US. The war was over; we were at peace. The news was: Eisenhower played another round of golf today. Men were going to school on the GI bill, and slowly people were moving up, buying houses, raising families, watching The Price is Right, I Love Lucy, and Gunsmoke. Moms were at home. And then there were the kids on the block. The block was a micro ism of the country. We knew our neighbors, everyone watched out for each others kids, and moms got together for coffee and chats. Our friends were our co adventurers. We explored the woods, played Coyboys and Indians, climbed trees, rode our bikes, played games like Old Mother Witch are your ready" Monkey in the Middle, and Simon Says. Our fun was home grown, fueled by our imagination and what was readily available. Tires were tied to old trees and we had a swing. Sticks easily became soldiers of war. We painted our faces with moms lipstick. We formed baseball teams and played in the sand lots. And then collectively we enjoyed the treats that the moms would put our for us; lemonade, chocolate chip cookies, nothing overly healthy but certainly delicious. TV was the furthest thing from our minds. We were all about action. Friendships were made through proximity. There were always the leaders and then the tag alongs', usually younger siblings. The stronger protected the weaker. I don't remember being taught that. It just came natural. We also had chores. I had particularly large list of chores, coming from a large family. One of the neighbor kids was an only child, who did very little in the way of chores. I "allowed" her the experience of dipping her little hands in sudsy water and washing dishes after our family of ten had finished eating. She was enthralled by the experience and so was I. It was a Tom Sawyer moment. Some of the visuals I have during that period are: diapers handing on a line, blowing in the wind, with a clothespin bag standing ready baby bottles being sterilized and steaming up the kitchen the smell of toast and coffee when going to the breakfast table the percolator singing its tune as breakfast was being served rubber boots and yellow rain jackets lined up in the hallway a telephone attached to the wall, with a telephone seat beneath it calling the operator to get the time studying the wall paper that had fancy ladies in ball gowns and men in top hats smelling a pot roast cooking on the stove playing out side until the street lights came on (that was curfew time) playing jacks Easter Egg hunts school assemblies and what we didn't have: fear of strangers structured time coming home to an empty house fear of playing in the woods, cyber bullying isolation via video games, and internet addiction people of trust violating that trust, untold violence constant warnings about due vigilance Why continue. We had it so good, growing up in the 50