I grew up during this time. You know what I remember? Being bored…a lot. We didn’t text or Google the Internet, instead we played cards, poked at leaf fires, ran around, but we also read ingredient labels, shampoo bottles, captured and then mutilated bugs, and we watched the same episode of Fred Rogers for the 42nd time. And we just sat there on the porch, sometimes in silence.
Fortunately my Dad was a yarn spinner and could keep us occupied with jokes or little quarter magic tricks or talk about literally nothing for hours. But even he would get exhausted of talking from time to time, and so we would sit there, bobbing our legs about, itchy or tired. Or we’d go be mischievous in mildly mischievous ways…and other times not so mildly.
And then the driving, good gravy so much driving. Some conversations could be held over the phone, but real business had to be done in person, especially since credit cards were an oddity and not considered as safe as cash. Bills were mailed, but more often than not paid on the very last due date in person through the teller window. We drove half the days away sitting there inhaling second and third hand cigarette smoke with the car windows shut or cracked ever so slightly.
So, maybe it was different for the wealthy kids who could shop at the mall food court for hours or the big city kids who could bloviate with film producers downtown, but for us growing up in the Styx life was fucking boring before the Internet. And I wasn’t even that far in the Styx.
And don’t get me started if your weird ass didn’t match up to the rest of your communities opinions. The Internet literally gave these people community.
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I grew up during this time. You know what I remember? Being bored…a lot. We didn’t text or Google the Internet, instead we played cards, poked at leaf fires, ran around, but we also read ingredient labels, shampoo bottles, captured and then mutilated bugs, and we watched the same episode of Fred Rogers for the 42nd time. And we just sat there on the porch, sometimes in silence.
Fortunately my Dad was a yarn spinner and could keep us occupied with jokes or little quarter magic tricks or talk about literally nothing for hours. But even he would get exhausted of talking from time to time, and so we would sit there, bobbing our legs about, itchy or tired. Or we’d go be mischievous in mildly mischievous ways…and other times not so mildly.
And then the driving, good gravy so much driving. Some conversations could be held over the phone, but real business had to be done in person, especially since credit cards were an oddity and not considered as safe as cash. Bills were mailed, but more often than not paid on the very last due date in person through the teller window. We drove half the days away sitting there inhaling second and third hand cigarette smoke with the car windows shut or cracked ever so slightly.
So, maybe it was different for the wealthy kids who could shop at the mall food court for hours or the big city kids who could bloviate with film producers downtown, but for us growing up in the Styx life was fucking boring before the Internet. And I wasn’t even that far in the Styx.
And don’t get me started if your weird ass didn’t match up to the rest of your communities opinions. The Internet literally gave these people community.