WWII was going on, we played army. I wish that there was such a thing as video in those days. All the boys in the neighborhood probably 8 or nine, would get together and the oldest would be the sergeant, and he'd march us. We were marching under arms, dad had made me a very respectable rifle out of wood, with a broom handle barrel. One or two had BB guns, a couple just had sticks. One kid had a WWI helmet, one kid had a sailor hat, a couple had kitchen pots for helmets. Later I got a Daisy Red Ryder BB gun. Then my uncle sent me a brand new Japanese helmet from a supply cave on Guam. From then on I was the bad guy and got killed more than any other. I have no idea what happened to that helmet, but it got played with until it was ruined, and I'm sure it ended up in the dump. Saturday's we always went to the movie. A grade B western, with a serial and cartoon. For 12 cents got you inside, and 5 cents bought popcorn, another 5 cents for a coke. If you wanted the latest special comic book, one could forgo the popcorn and coke, and buy the comic on the way home. The theater was always crowded, and during the movie the din was unreal. The black hatted cowboy would be sneaking up on the white hatted good guy, and all the kids would be hollering "Look out behind you." The more horse manure and gun smoke the better the picture was, and if the white hat cowboy kissed the girl, that ruined the whole thing. After the movie was over we would play cowboys and Indians. There was no organized sports for kids, we'd play softball in a vacant lot -- work ups, there were never enough for two teams. We walked or rode bicycles everywhere we went. If it was raining parents would car pool, otherwise even after dark we'd have to walk. I remember when I was a little older we'd go to a scary movie and it would be dark on the way home. There were no street lights for quite a distance, and we'd get in the middle of the road, and run like heck, scared the monster was going to get us. Our parents seemed to let us go most anywhere we wanted, but mom had a cow bell, and when she rang that you just had a few minutes to get home. If you dilly dallied, she would meet you with a wood coat hanger. I had a few of them busted on my butt. She never threatened to tell dad, she always handled it herself. We weren't a bit scared of the cops, if we got caught doing something stupid, we begged and pleaded, "please don't tell my dad." They always did. Oh yeah, my father always told the teacher, if I was bad, they were to spank me, and send a note home, with a promise he'll get it again when he gets home. I got spanked at school, but no teacher ever made me get an extra spanking.
I think it's sad what kids are missing out on today.
