Youth between the ages of 15-18 spend an average of 7 1/2 hours in front of a screen using entertainment media (4 1/2 hours of that is in front of a TV)! This statistic from the CDC got me thinking about my youth and how I spent my time. I didn’t have a computer until I was 23 and didn’t own a cell phone until I was 29! Now that I have Google Maps and was able to map out some of my old routes to see how much I walked as a kid.
Early years (my own personal Nam): I was forced to climb into ditches to collect Cattails for my mom’s flower arranging class. Not an easy task, with mosquitos, deer flies, humid Michigan weather, and the toughness of the cattail stalks. I was initially motivated by the fact that she told us we were harvesting corndogs for lunch. Come on, you have to admit they do kind of look like corndogs. Did I mention I was legally blind?
We built forts in the woods, carved my name in Birch trees, tapped Maple trees for syrup, and outran angry roosters. We played in deep mud puddles in our driveway.
Our old swimming hole
I even herded cows at one point. Yes, one of my first unpaid jobs was a position as a Border Collie. This was back in the day when you could call your neighbor and “ask” their children to drop everything to herd a cow back to the barn as you sit on the stoop drinking sweet tea.
I took ballet, gymnastics, and tap dance lessons. I participated in “karate on roller skates while wearing a long nightgown” (I do not recommend trying that one). I’ve competed in Mother-Daughter Fashion Shows. Lots of quality practice time walking up and down the runway with my mom!
Eat your heart out Honey Boo Boo!
Sweet Mother of God, Why, Why?!
And then there were the days at grandma and grandpa’s house jumping off the roof with homemade parachutes (sheets), or jumping out of my grandma’s favorite Chinese Elm tree onto a makeshift teeter-totter to see how high we could fling each other into the air (with my cousins, not my grandma). No one ever got hurt beyond an occasional impaling of a rusty nail (nothing a little peroxide or whiskey couldn’t cure).
Grandma was a camp leader, so we also spent a lot of time camping and building fires. When not camping, she sent us out on walking missions to the liquor store (1.1 miles one way) with a note that read, “Please sell Barbie two packs of Marlboro Reds for her grandmother.” She would have asked for more, but the store manager drew the line at two packs per minor. Thanks to his strict policies and my grandma’s addiction, I logged a lot of miles as a mule on those cigarette runs.
I also had a short stint in the Boy Scouts. My mom was a Scout leader and I had a crush on Brent Heinz, a boy in her troop. Brent if you’re reading this, Hi! I cried until my mom let me join your troop, but you ignored me! I forgive you. You can let go of that guilt (and I’m assuming a mountain of regret) and move on with your life.
I look shocked because apparently, I’m the only one who has noticed that the armrest is on fire. Between that, and my grandma’s cigarette smoke and my tights, I can’t breathe!
Oh, and then there was the pissed-off Raggedy Ann days. I “won” the part of one of the 50 Raggedy Ann’s…” every child gets a part in the play because they’re special” BS. If they would have had a real competition, I would have crushed those Raggedy Ann winey wannabes. You should have seen my roll and flop technique, it was brilliant! I look pissed because my parents forgot to pick me up after the performance and I had to walk home dressed like that (see below). That 2.2-mile walk of shame seemed more like 100 miles.
Grade 4-6: I walked to my elementary school .6 miles through the woods and over railroad tracks. Once in a petticoat because I thought it was “old-fashioned days” …which it wasn’t.
Then came the days of VHS rentals. Yes, I was inactive during movie time, but my dad countered the inactivity by making me run afterward. I remember him saying, in a very serious low voice, that he needed my help returning some videos that were way overdue. Wanting to avoid paying the late fees, he’d drive me to the store where we’d sit out front and review the plan…Dad: “I will keep the car running while you walk casually into the store, drop the video on the counter and bolt out as fast as you can. It should take approximately 16.5 seconds before they figure out that we owe a shit load of money, so don’t blow it! If they catch you, they’ll make you work off the debt and I might go to jail.” Adding to my anxiety, I could hear my dad outside revving the engine as I placed the video on the counter. Everything went as planned until I ran out of the store to see my dad driving off in the getaway car (laughing and waving). (2.2 miles run home)
Grade 6th through high school: I walked to a Lake Michigan beach a lot, 3.6 miles each way. Or a 1.5-mile “shortcut” through sand dunes (lots of hills on this walk!). I also raked leaves and scooped poop (my mom had five fricken dogs!). Did I mention I once had a job as a “Pooper Scooper” at dog shows? Talk about a lot of running around and squatting (both me and the dogs)! I didn’t even get paid! I was what they call a “volunteer” (read: child labor). They did, however, give me a sun visor that read “Official Pooper Scooper”. As if unofficial Pooper Scoopers were untrained and couldn’t be trusted.
Eventually, I advanced to “volunteer” dog handler. That’s me looking all contemplative ‘n shit as I gaze into the distance holding my best in show trophy. …damn I was good!
In our free time, we made a track and field course with hurdles that we constructed out of PVC pipe. I’ve ice-skated on more frozen roads than I can count (okay two), eventually, my dad made an ice-skating rink for us in the backyard, we sledded down snowy dunes in garbage bags and built igloos. I once ran an extension cord outside so I could bake cakes with my Easy Bake Oven inside my igloo. It was super cozy. I remember the feeling of independence as I sat in my very first igloo studio apartment, “ahh, the freedom, this must be what adult life is like. They have it pretty dang easy.”
Then there was the job that I actually received a real paycheck. My first official job as a salad girl (age 15) kept me running around from salad bar to salad bar, chopping vegetables, mixing dressings, gutting poop out of shrimp, and crushing cockroaches. Hey, if my grandpa can lie about his age in order to fight in World War II (he was only 16 when he went to war), I think I can lie about my age to get a job as a salad girl.
I’m not anti-technology by any means, I just can’t imagine the childhood memories I would be recounting if I had spent 7 1/2 hours a day in front of a tablet or TV. Yes, I know my childhood wasn’t glamorous (except for my Hungarian Princess phase), but I wouldn’t change it for anything (except the scooping poop part). I’m just reflecting on the past and wondering what new memories I will look back on 30 years from now. I hope those memories include dancing, hiking with friends and family, long embraces, foraging, lying on the earth, and playing in the mud and not long hours on the computer. More outdoor movement and less computer time is my goal.
Barb, you are the best!YOur blog posts are funny,insightful, and witty! Thanks for sharing your lovely musings with us!!
I remember building igloos as a kid, too! We also dammed up a creek behind our house to make an ice skating pond. Apparently it messed something up for the farmer.
Sweet! I loved my igloo, but I also remember come spring time I melted the remaining snow in our yard with a shovel. I was so done with winter.
A wonderful read!