Our Childhood in Black and White
Go all the way to the bottom past the
pictures. I think you'll enjoy it. Whoever wrote this described our childhood to
You could hardly see for all the snow,
Spread the rabbit ears as far as they go.
Pull a chair up to the TV set,
"Good Night, David. Good Night, Chet."
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.
used to defrost hamburger on the counter AND I used to eat it raw sometimes,
too. Our school sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper in a brown paper bag, not
in ice-pack coolers, but I can't remember getting e.coli.
Almost all of
us would have rather gone swimming in the lake instead of a pristine pool (talk
about boring), no beach closures then.
The term cell phone would have
conjured up a phone in a jail cell, and a pager was the school PA system.
Flunking gym was not an option . even for stupid kids! I guess PE
must be much harder than gym.
We must have had horribly damaged psyches.
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, Play Station, Nintendo, X-box or 270
digital TV cable stations.
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 (kids liked it better because it didn't sting like iodine did) and
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.
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 ever survive?
Send any comments or concerns to: LarryDwyer (at) NewtonHighAlumni.com