10 Dangers From A Gen-X Childhood That Were Obviously Trying To End Us
fotoak | ShutterstockHistory shows that over time people want to feel safe. Safe at home with locks on doors, safe in cars with rules on the road, and safe out in the wild with —well, just about everything else — almost to the point of being overprotective.
We put our kids in a bubble, don't let them out of our sight for 10 minutes, don't allow them to play "rough" with each other, or on surfaces that might scratch their delicate paper skin. I mean, when's the last time you saw a kid in a cast? But for Gen-X (and before), we were thrown to the wolves: Left unattended, given hazardous, toxic things to play with, and encouraged to do anything but stay indoors. If you were in the house, you were shoved outside to play, and if no one was home, look out, Mom might come home to a fire truck in front of the house (true story).
Here are a few death-defying things we grew up with that make me wonder if this was meant to be a trial-and-error of population control. (Kidding, sort of.)
The dangers from a Gen-X childhood:
1. Seat belts (or lack thereof)
Seat belt laws didn't come into effect in Texas until around 1986. Before that, they existed, but you were pretty much a nerd if you wore one. When I was 8, my dad and I were riding in his little MGB, and I leaned against the door, which wasn't latched properly, and it flew open.
My dad grabbed me and yanked me back in while saying, "Don't tell your mother." I learned deceit early on. A seat belt would've helped.
2. Open container laws
Let's stick with cars, shall we? Back in the day, in many states, you could grab a 6-pack and your buddy and take a Sunday drive to Tipsysville! Many a weekend I spent many weekends in the backseat of our 1970 Dodge Dart Swinger with a cooler full of soda, Lay's potato chips, and a few Miller High Lifes for the parents. Driving through the Connecticut countryside seeking out antique shops never felt so free.
3. Playgrounds of death
Most of our playground equipment was metal, sharp, hot, rusty metal, usually hovering over a soft bed of concrete or gravel. The slide was too tall, the rocking horses had springs so big they could shatter a jaw if they broke, the see-saw was made of splinter-filled wood, and the jungle gym was a chaotic mess of galvanized metal tubing that looked like a blind person had welded it together.
Every kid swung on those upside down, from their knees, doing a dismount from the top bar that would make Nadia Comăneci proud — or give them a broken arm.
4. Ride or die (bike safety)
Photo from Author
We rode our bikes everywhere, no helmet or training wheels in sight. We went from a tricycle to a two-wheel bike in one afternoon with a parent or sibling pushing us down an uneven sidewalk. In my case, it was my sister Robin. When I fell over, she helped me up multiple times until I wobbled down the street unsupervised. She then left to go hang out with friends, and by the time she got home I'd mastered riding a bike and was already figuring out how to ride no-handed.
We made homemade ramps (badly), tried to ride over tree-branch bridges, learned the hard way that your brakes didn't work when wet, and found out that falling off the bike while standing on the seat didn't get you much sympathy from your mother. True story: she put Mercurochrome on my knee, fed me a PBJ, and sent me back out into the wild without a helmet.
5. Picking weird berries
We picked fruit (and anything that looked like fruit) and ate them. The end.
6. Walking to school without adults
We started walking to school with a group of friends around 1st grade. That was our safety net, a feral gang of 6–7-year-olds carrying Snoopy and Holly Hobbie lunch boxes, not to be messed with.
We had a bunch of corner stores in small-town Connecticut, so it wasn't uncommon for my mom to send me out for bread or milk. Around age 8, I was often sent to the store around the corner with a note that said, "Please sell my daughter Kristen a pack of Kent 100s, thank you." Then I'd proudly walk home armed with a Charleston Chew and a pack of tar and nicotine.
I'd have my sister walk me to Jake's, three blocks away. That place was the Mecca of candy and had a huge rack of magazines. I'd buy the next issue of Mad or Cracked with my allowance, but not before trying to look at the top row where all of the weird "dirty" mags lived. What does "Oui" mean anyway?
7. Toxic toys
Lead, Cadmium, Asbestos, Oh my! Everything we touched was dangerous. But in my opinion, nothing was as bad as Super Elastic Bubble Plastic — a tube full of toxic chemicals, put on a straw to blow up colorful bubbles that made you high.
I took the liberty of looking up the exact chemical makeup: Chemically, the bubbles contained polyvinyl acetate dissolved in acetone, with ethyl acetate plastic fortifiers added — no wonder we're a generation of people with an addiction.
8. Flammable clothing
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Let's narrow it down to two products: Halloween costumes and pajamas. On Halloween, we were sent out in flammable, toxic plastic costumes that included a razor-sharp mask held on by a flimsy rubber band and two staples.
With most houses having fire-lit pumpkins on the front porch, we were all just a few feet away from combustion. A mini Milky Way might have been worth the risk, but those nasty Necco wafers weren't.
Once we got home and separated all of the possible razors in our candy buckets, we slipped right into our flammable pajamas, the ones with the plastic feet. Rayon, polyester, and acetate clung to our tiny frames as we drifted off to slumberland, hoping for a flame-free sleep.
Luckily, Mom didn't smoke those Kent 100s in bed because I'm pretty sure her "satin" nightgowns were flammable too.
9. Sharp, hot things everywhere
Besides the playground, most of our toys had sharp edges. Erector sets were boys' first foray into the finger-slicing jobs of engineering and construction. Square girders and bolts encouraged boys to build things, while girls were directed toward the kitchen, burning themselves on a 100-watt bulb inside an E-Z Bake Oven.
Speaking of bulbs, Lite Bright was another fire hazard disguised as art. A giant 100-watt lamp covered in paper and plastic pegs. What could go wrong?
Then there were Jarts. I loved Jarts. An oversized dart with a sharp metal point that you threw across Nana's yard and hoped you didn't impale your father in the heart. The plastic remakes were flat-out bunk trash.
10. Explosives
Okay, okay, I get it, the younger generations are calling bull. Who would give kids explosives?
Enter: the chemistry set. If you were lucky, or your parents had a death wish, you got a chemistry set for Christmas. The earliest sets were literally full of vials of toxic and explosive chemicals, wires, test tubes, and burners. Instructions might include how to make gunpowder and how to heat, bend, and cut your own test tubes. Saw included.
I knew people who'd set fires and create small explosions at home. All of that made my cap gun look lame.
Obviously we need safety rules and regulations, but at what cost? Not getting broken, battered, and burnt? That's how Gen-X learned as kids: we take risks and hopefully never do it again. But when you're wrapped in bubble wrap until you're 25, you might find yourself sobbing and having a panic attack when you get a paper cut, or someone says "Boo."
At least you'll be safe from their non-flammable costume.
Kristen Crisp founded Not Even Wine With Dinner. A community/mission for those looking for peer support with sobriety, self-esteem, mental health, aging, and all the things that come with being human. She also writes frequently on Medium under the handle @notevenwinewithdinner.
