Best Buy was 5 Pixy Stix for a nickel at Mattingly's.
A pop-up was worth a hunnerd if you caught it, minus a hunnerd if you dropped it.
If you couldn't sleep at 2am, there weren't 712 channels to choose from, only the test pattern, made going back to bed easy peasy.
Time for school? Two options, walk or ride the bus.
To be cool, you had to have baseball cards affixed with clothespins to the spokes of your bike... or, a box of 64 crayons (with a sharpener)...
To get cool, one had to come inside, sit in front of the fan in the window, or, for a brief moment, go stick your head in the freezer of the fridge..
Position was huge in life. The oldest kid got the biggest non-parent bedroom, or, was the only kid to have their own room. If there were kids aplenty, the oldest choice of position was bottom or top bunk. Calling shotgun wasn't a thing yet, but, getting the very back section of the station wagon all to yourself was.
Right field meant your little league years were numbered. Shortstop was generally also the quarterback and point guard. Nuclear bomb drill? One assumed the position under the desk.
In a tiff at recess? Caught passing a note to Suzy? Seen tossing a green bean at Smitty? Off to the Principal's office, and again, you assumed the position. Ouch.
Ice cream was a reward - IF you had it in your arm to turn the crank for 23 straight minutes. The dishwasher was a position, and, whether or not that was you depended on your day(s) of the week to do so, otherwise, you dried them.
Bugs were either kilt by onea them mosquito fog trucks, collected in mason jars, or, wiped off the windshield by the attendant at the gas station.
Left the ballglove out in the rain? Laces busted next time you used it? Nope, no trip to Dicks, Academy, Scheels... it was off to Mace Shoe Repair, but only after you'd collected and turned in enough pop bottles to pay for the repair.
We'd never heard of Minecraft, Madden, Mortal Combat or Mario Kart, but we did play Operation until the battery went dead or, we lost all the dadgum bones somehow in transport. Mr. Potato Head was our backup, but again, small pieces in a large world. Eh, so we don't have the nose.. whoever gets alla the parts even without the nose wins.
Roll your own was at least a generation away, but Grandpa has been doing it for decades what with his papers and Red Man tin.
"I'm bored" was met with "Go outside and count to 10,000", or, "If you like, you can stay inside and help me clean the bathroom."
Thirsty? Just Whistle.. or, grab a pitcher, sugar, a packet of Kool-Aid and make your own... no such thing as a quick Capri Sun or a cool kid Kool-Aid Jammer. Two liters tweren't invented yet, and one litter meant the Jones's had 7 kittens, again.
Hand-me-down shoes usually didn't fall off your feet the second summer.. and, it was cinchy for dad to punch another hole in your belt so big brother's jeans would stay up on you.
Twas fun to meet and greet the mailman, the milkman, the trashman - all by first name, and even funner to hand them the warm chocolate chip cookies mom had made for them.
It was a few years before Aretha would sing R-e-s-p-e-c-t to us, but we learnt to pay it to our folks, our teacher, the preacher, virtually anyone, especially adults. "Or else" was semi-threatened to us but we never crossed that line simply for fear of the unknown. Friends... friends had taught us about the raunchy taste of Lifeboy, and the feel of being on the wrong end of a weeping willow branch.
Weather, especially in the Midwest, was a celebration. Sun, we'd bask in it and make fun of gingers like me who wore T-shirts at the public pool. Storms, we'd all put on ballcaps and see who the last one to still be wearing theirs was. Snow was hopes of no school, sledding and hot chocolate. Brutal cold was neat as it meant indoor blanket forts. Fall was for watching, helping Mr. Irvng burn up his brush pile - maybe even getting mom to let you have the bag of marshmellows - weeping willow branches had more than just the one use.
Oh sure, we all had our grumps our groans and our fears.. mine was the feel of Merthiolate, all heck breaking loose if a june bug or a cicada landed on my shoulder, and the dread of walking up to let Mrs. Taylor know it was me that hit the baseball through her window.
We could tell time by the church bells, the mailman's arrival and, the street lights.
Yeah, yeah yeah... we heard the older folks say "Why, back in my day......" Then, we too got old and we said it.
It's tough to be a kid nowadays. "Go play on your phone" is the easy get-out-of-my-hair answer. Some kids, all they have known is masks at WalMart, and school, and a virus.
In spite of the many modern day conveniences...heck, even a car that can drive itself... it was still somehow an easier day and age.
We can only Pray they'll have smidgets of "back in my day."
Love, Victurd
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