Killing It In My Sixties

Ever been asked, “Why in God’s name did you drink out of a dirty garden hose when you were little?”  Because we weren’t allowed to come in the house once we were outside!  I was a child of the sixties – when we were home all day-every day in the summer, my mother sent us out right after breakfast and we didn’t get to come back in the house until it was time to wash our hands for dinner.  Even at lunch time – we were handed sandwiches out the back door and could use the toilet room off the back porch if needed. There was no television-watching, no video-gaming, no telling mom, “I’m bored”.  Nope – we were off on our sting-ray bikes with all the other neighbor kids, headed for the park, or the empty lot on the corner, or down to the deserted schoolyard to play on the blacktop.

Strangely – we were never given water bottles, or energy drinks or anything else to stave off dehydration, or all the now-known evils of water deprivation.  Nope – we drank out of a filthy water fountain at the park, or yes – the trusty-rusty garden hose.  I still can smell and taste the metallic essence of the nozzle as the water poured out – first warm from sitting in the sun and then eventually cooler as the water ran longer.  Inevitably, someone was slapping you on the back telling you to hurry up so they could have the next drink. And if you left it running on the grass when you were done – no one freaked out because there was no such thing as a water shortage.

In fact, running through the sprinkler was a daily activity in light of the fact that we were not a family that had a swimming pool.  Our parents never worried about us getting kidnapped off the front lawn while we ran around in our swimsuits, besides – and if we ran around long enough in the water – we might not need a bath that night.  Sometimes we had Kool-Aid sales, where we would set up a little card table, make a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid and stack little Dixie cups with a hand made sign attached somewhere saying, “Kool-Aid – 2 cents a glass”. Our sales were mostly to other little kids in the neighborhood but we didn’t care and our mom was completely unconcerned about strangers stopping to do business with us.

The rules of engagement were different in the sixties. There were no seat belts in cars and certainly NO car seats.  The four of us kids rolled around in the back seat of the car like greased marbles.  When we went on long trips, my parents would put a pad in the “way back” of the station wagon, and we would sleep back there – inhaling exhaust fumes all the way to the lake.  There were no iPads, mini-movie screens, or even hand-held games to entertain us on the ride.  Our highlights were a butter-rum Lifesaver if we complained about being car sick, and getting to sit by a window that rolled down manually.

We will all remember, the summer my youngest brother was two years old and was sitting on my mom’s lap in the front seat of our family station wagon.  It was hot as hell in August on the way to Fallen Leaf Lake and he started to throw up.  My mom didn’t want the puke on her so she held him out the car window to keep it off her. Unfortunately the back window was also rolled down – (no air conditioning back then) and the vomit whipped around and flew into the back window and all over my older brother’s face.  Going 65 miles an hour on the highway created a tornado effect, much to my brother’s horror and disgust.  

Even into my teenage years – we had seat belts by then, but never wore them because it wasn’t against the law. In fact, we rode in the open beds of pick-up trucks, and did “fire drills” at stop signs, which consisted of everybody jumping out of the car while it was still running and changing seats with each other.  We definitely drank alcohol and drove, and if the police stopped us – they would pour out the beer in front of us and then just send us home.  

We had parties at home while our parents were away and consumed every last drop of alcohol they had and replaced it with water or tea back in the old bottles.  And if the party got too out of hand – we would call the police ourselves – because we knew all of them and they considered it their public duty to “help us” maintain some control.  If we weren’t at our own home – we were likely to be at some other gathering – likely out a country road, in a pasture or barn, drinking cheap beer or sweet wine and passing out wherever we dropped.  There were no phone locator apps back then, and no cell phones at all. Once you went out for the night – God only knew what you were doing – but definitely not your parents!Were we better off then? We are still alive to talk about it – right?  Or are we better off now – when we literally know everything there is to know – and measures or laws are in place to prevent, protect and disclose literally everything?  I don’t know – I like my privacy and I liked the freedom I had in my childhood and teenage years – and I grew up to talk about it.