04/23/2026
Gen X childhood=
We left the house and didn't come back until the streetlights came on. No phone. No check-ins. Nothing.
Hungry? Good luck.
Late for dinner? You didn't eat.
Didn't like what was on your plate? You didn't eat or were made to sit at the table until you did eat—everything.
Thirsty? Every house had a hose.
You ran outta hairspray? You called every girl on the block to borrow some. Flat hair wasn’t a look—it was a death sentence.
We didn’t have playdates—we had roaming packs. We were like street rats and feral cats. We roamed miles
for hours (no money in our pockets btw). We didn’t have any supervision. Supervision? What the hell was that?!
Classrooms looked like a triage unit—casts, crutches, slings—because we weren’t “active,” we were out there climbing anything that could collapse, sliding down hot metal slides and riding bikes without helmets, elbow and knee pads. Gear was around but
using it was optional at best, mocked at worst.
You memorized phone numbers. All of them.
You got locked out of your house and just… waited. Or broke back in like it was normal.
"I’m bored” got you a chore.
If you got in trouble at school, you bet your ass your parents already knew about it and you got it twice.
Sleeping at a friends house was a gift to your folks. And they never made a point of meeting your friend's parents first.
We weren’t raised—we were like free ranged chickens that were released into the wild.