12 cents got you into the Saturday movie, which 99% of the time was a western, a short and a cartoon. The cartoon was Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck, rarely Daffy Duck or Pepe La Phew, the French skunk. 5 cents bought popcorn and 5 cents bought a pop, 3 cents bought a huge mouthful of double bubble gum, or you could share two pieces with your friends, have one for yourself, and the 2 bit piece was silver. After the movie, we walked home and played cowboys and Indians, or if it was a pirate movie we made wooden swords and had sword fights, and nobody had an eye poked out. We drank water out of the garden hose, and shared one bottle of pop among several friends. We all had Red Ryder BB guns, and nobody got their eye shot out, but sadly a lot of birds bit the dust. We had friends and enemies, and sometimes we got into rock fights with our enemies. If there weren't enough kids for a softball game, we played workups on a vacant lot, and there wasn't an adult in sight. If there was enough kids for two teams the best players got chosen first, and I was always last, and I learned that life wasn't always fair -- and again, no adults in sight, we solved our own problems. If I got in trouble in town I begged the police not to tell my Dad. If I got busted for one of many violations of the rules, both Mom and/or Dad would spank me, and it made me a better person. On Sundays I went to Sunday School with offering coins tied in a hanky so tight no kid could untie them. We had a victory garden, and raised rabbits and had chickens for eggs, fryers and stewing hens. Starting about age 12, a box of 50 rounds of .22 ammo cost 50 cents, and between that and shotgun shells, I was broke all the time. At age 16, in San Luis Obispo, California, with out parental permission, (my folks agreed, but the store didn't even ask) I went into the gun store, and laid away a Colt .22 Huntsman pistol. My friend Richard had a Woodsman, but that was at least $20 more, so I bought what I could afford. The Huntsman must have cost around around $40 and I was making around $20 a month at the time. In about 3 months I had it paid off and brought it home. Dad loved the gun, and asked if he could borrow it when he went fishing. Still 16 (I joined the Navy at 17) I went to the high sheriff, and was given a concealed carry permit for my pistol. I had it and a rifle or shot gun in my car at school and as long as they stayed in the car, if anyone cared they didn't say a word. If we wanted to hunt arrowheads, we asked the Forest Ranger where to find the best place, and he told us. I panned for gold in the Merced River, inside the boundaries of Yosemite National Park, and the Park Ranger admired my meager flecks of gold dust. Dang, I'm making myself homesick. People today don't have the slightest idea what it's like to be free.
