When we so-called baby boomers were kids we would listen with great amusement as our parents regaled us with stories of how much tougher their upbringing was than ours. You know, the they walked 13 miles to school with snow up to their waists kind of stuff. Of course, we always felt that they made most of it up just to make their stories more dramatic.
However, because of the incredibly rapid rate at which the world has changed, some of what they were preaching just might have been at least partially true. For example, take the walking in the snow thing: the world has been steadily warming over the last century (Global Warming IS real). This means that our parents DID actually have to deal with more snow storms than we did. And, we seem to be getting less snow every year. So, there was some veracity in their recollection.
And, now, I find myself in very much the same situation as my parents, i.e. explaining to young people how different, and in many ways, how my youthful experiences were both simpler but more difficult.
Here's an example.
When I was growing up in the middle and late 1960's, my hometown, Fort Lee, NJ, was experiencing a building boom. My family, like so many others, were moving out of the 5 boroughs of NY City to the more gentle confines of the suburbs, like Fort Lee. So, to accommodate the influx of new families there was an enormous amount of home construction going on.
Of course, unguarded building sites are an irresistible attraction to pre-teens and teens. And, we were no exception.
There was one such construction site located just across the street and down the block from our home. Well, one afternoon, a group of my friends and I were exploring the skeleton frame of the new house when someone noticed a sheen on a puddle of water that was created after a heavy rainstorm the day before. The water also had a powerful odor of gasoline to it. Putting 2 + 2 together, we figured that the sheen was being caused by some fuel that must have been dumped into the puddle. We figured that if we threw a lit match into the puddle, the water would literally burn. And, that's exactly what happened. Someone struck a match and when it hit the gasoline infused water it erupted in flames. COOL we all blurted out - the water was indeed burning!
After a few minutes of being mesmerized by the flames, we got bored. So, a bunch of the gang decided to start tossing other things into the blaze just to watch them burn. One of my friends decided to take it one step further and light something WITH the fire but not toss it into the inferno. So, he found a cardboard box and lit the edge of one of the flaps. He then pulled it out of the fire and decided to swing it as fast as he could over his head. We were all amazed when the faster he spun the box the more the flames formed a continuous loop, like a flaming lasso.
Well, after a few minutes the flap that my friend was using to hold and swing the flaming box by broke off, sending it flying - eventually landing squarely on my head!!!
It was not a thick cardboard box so the flames just lasted a few more seconds while still affixed to my head and face. Fortunately, it did not burn me badly but it was just long enough to singe my hair, blacken my face, and burn off my eyebrows!!
Still, I was horrified!!
As I mentioned, my house was just about a block away and I made a beeline for it, running as fast as a could, screaming all the way. My older sister still remembers the sound of my cowboy boots (I was obsessed with cowboys at the time) banging on the pavement while I was yelling WOOOOO the entire way home.
Of course, my mother was home at the time and assessed the situation. I was really more singed that actually burnt but I would certainly need to be attended to. However, instead of taking me to the nearest hospital (which in those days was a considerable distance away) or family doctor, my mother took me to the local pharmacy. The pharmacist was a childhood friend of my father's and we were taken to him, rather than a hospital or doctor, the great majority of the times we needed some type of medical intervention.
And, this was deemed as no exception.
The pharmacist coated my head, face, and neck with a cooling burn gel and sent me home in the care of my mother. I remember getting the special treatment which including resting in my sister's bedroom because she had her own room (I shared mine with my younger brother) and a full-sized bed (mine as just a single). I must say that I was treated like a king - for a few days, anyway! I was not seriously injured and really suffered more from embarrassment that anything else.
I think that any parent today would be mortified at how that situation was handled. I believe that they would have had me airlifted to Westchester Medical Center to be placed in a hyperbaric chamber! OK, perhaps that's hyperbole but they certainly would have taken me to a hospital or one of the emergency walk-in clinics that have proliferated in recent years. But, at the time, that was not OUR reality.
Does this upbringing make me any tougher than say someone who was raised more recently? Perhaps. I'm not so sure of that. However, I do believe that it's safe to say times have certainly changed. Things certainly were simpler in most ways 50+ years ago. But, does that make one way better than the other. Of that, I am no so sure of either.
Only when our children tell THEIR children will the truth be revealed.
My neighbor Jimmy, filled an Italian ice cup with gasoline on the driveway and then lit it (why bc we were kids) and then the nosy neighbor walked by and he stepped on it to but it out and his face went on fire. We kids ran into the backyard to get the hose but got distracted but I don’t know what( I kid you not) and we’re found drinking out of of while Jimmy’s face was on fire, you can’t make this shit up.
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