Right now there is in the news some discussion of "free range Parenting". I guess this is in contrast to "helicopter parenting". Those of us who grew up in the late 50's in rural America, generally find all this amusing.
I am second oldest of 5 surviving boys (we lost an older brother who died of pneumonia as a child). We roamed the world in the best possible "free-range" fashion. As young boys we walked about 2 miles on a fairly busy highway almost daily during the summer months. We walked to the swimming pool and spent the best part of every day there during the hot summers of North Georgia.
We roamed the woods the other months. There were literally thousands of acres behind our home, and we seemed to have general access to it all. We hunted squirrels, gathered wild ginger buds, build huts, camped, hiked, explored, played in the creek, and no one thought anything about it...everybody did pretty much the same.
As we became old enough to drive, our exploits expanded to include floating the Etowah River to fish and jump-shoot ducks, and harvest more squirrels for the pot. We frog-gigged local ponds with great success, and oddly enough, we survived all this.
There is more to tell, but that is enough for now.
I am second oldest of 5 surviving boys (we lost an older brother who died of pneumonia as a child). We roamed the world in the best possible "free-range" fashion. As young boys we walked about 2 miles on a fairly busy highway almost daily during the summer months. We walked to the swimming pool and spent the best part of every day there during the hot summers of North Georgia.
We roamed the woods the other months. There were literally thousands of acres behind our home, and we seemed to have general access to it all. We hunted squirrels, gathered wild ginger buds, build huts, camped, hiked, explored, played in the creek, and no one thought anything about it...everybody did pretty much the same.
As we became old enough to drive, our exploits expanded to include floating the Etowah River to fish and jump-shoot ducks, and harvest more squirrels for the pot. We frog-gigged local ponds with great success, and oddly enough, we survived all this.
There is more to tell, but that is enough for now.
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