smackaholic wrote:We old fukks who spent a good bit of our childhoods roaming the neighborhood with our peers, learned to work shit out.
Very true.
No helmets on our heads and text messages to mommy every 15 minutes to make sure we are okay.
Shit, we used to roam all over the place -- and just rolled back in at dinner time.
If there was some reason why we
had to come back in to the house, the old man might step out front and
yell for us.
But normally we were just gonzo, and as you said, we kids just worked our own shit out.
No big deal.
Part of growing up.
Then again, the world was more civil back in that day, and I happened to live in decent neighborhoods, also.
The world is very much a freak show these days.