We had icicle fights and no one lost an eye.
We would go swimming and climb up some old boards to jump from a highway overpass into the river. Then we'd ride home all wet in the back of the pickup truck without seatbelts.
We climbed to the top of pine trees past those weak dead lower branches and sway in the wind.
We ran across ravines on fallen logs, or would swing over on grapevines.
Played with snapping turtles and swam in the pond with them barefoot.
We once tried to canoe a river in flood stage. {Not such a good an idea and the current plastered us against a tree making us nearly lose the canoe.)
We'd take the canoe out by ourselves and take neighbor kids along to fish for hours without life vests and back under docks to find water moccasins staring back.
Dad made a cart for the tractor and would tow everyone around in it. I'm sure the government would have dissapproved.
We learned to clamp bulls, and would chase cattle with buckets of purple iodine water to splash in their faces to prevent pinkeye.
We'd slide down indian mounds on old innertubes in the winter, trying to avoid the plentiful trees.
And in the summer we'd slide down hillsides covered with black walnuts on sheet metal with sharp edges.
We'd swing from my uncle's barn rafters into a pile of hay, learning the hard way to check it for copperheads first.
We ate eggs not inspected by the government. We made butter not approved by the government, and ate meat not inspected by the government.
We dug fortresses in the earth mounds at construction sites- though dad was careful to warn us about the dangers of cave-ins when we tried to tunnel. Luckily it was loess.
We had cowpie fights. The trick was to pick up one with just enough crust to hold together, but not so much it didn't have a gooey center.
We had toadstool fights too, which were not as smelly and didn't involved maggots but the air would look like a WWI battle zone full of mustard gas.
Played King of the Hill until our teeth rattled.
Had black walnut fights when the husks had darkened and softened enough to make my mom furious with the stains.
Mom battled it out with a schoolteacher when the teacher was angry I'd read ahead in the books and memorized them all to the point she wouldn't even call on me and was actually going to punish me. That was frightening and perplexing- up to then I thought we were sent to school to learn. The idea of not being allowed to learn at my own pace was absurd. The teacher thought I should sit there and do nothing but twiddle my thumbs. Mom pulled me out of that class and I ended up with one of the best teachers in the world instead, a Polish guy way past retirement age who was sharp as a tack.
My dad made homemade wine which we were free to sample.
We hunted without adult supervision once we earned Dad's trust. He bought us guns as gifts. I was 6 when he taught me to unload and clean guns and after that I was able to earn extra change by cleaning my brothers' guns too.
We'd sit up in tree stands in the deer season freezing out butts off.
We built soda can cannons.
We worked with mom's sewing machine and with dad's power tools whenever we needed to build something.
We made bows, blowguns, catapults, javelins, tables, bridges, rabbit traps, carts, you name it.
We left booze and cookies out for Santa, and carrots out for reindeer. We repeatedly tried to trap Santa Claus. He always outsmarted us.
Dad had us help him put on a new roof and build additions to the house and we didn't get a code inspector's permission. My biggest concern wasn't the height or the rickety ladder but when I was really small he'd make you hold nails for him.
Mom showed us how to cook for ourselves and how to garden and her mom showed us how to can things, butcher turkeys, and tend to livestock. We had a great time once watching our cousins get walloped with peach switches for getting into some of her things without asking permission.
We made snowballs big enough to block the school busses from getting past.
We pushed stranded motorists out of snowbanks and reluctantly pulled a hippy's van out of the mire when he trespassed after making him wait nervously as long as we could.
A thunderstorm was time with mom- we would go outside on the porch during thunderstorms to watch the lightning, talk and cool off. Mom took me out of school one day to let me ride one of her friends' horses, and her friend gave me books and magazines on animals and agriculture which were more educational than school would have been in a year.
My dad tought me how to use a chain saw. And then when he sent me to cut some trees and it felt great because he trusted me enough not to "mother hen."
We played flashlight tag all night and the neighbors didn't mind.
We built campfires without having to get permission and grandmother would tell ghost stories that made us too jumpy to sleep, and we'd "swordfight" with burning sticks or marshmallow torches.
A toddler buying a pocketnife didn't raise eyebrows at the country store. A kid buying ammo for his rifle didn't, either.
We mucked around after dark in the swamp looking for frogs. When in the city we'd camp outside at night and talk without having to worry about pervs, or druggies, or anything else.
Mom and Dad let us know that if we ever did anything to end up in jail they would NOT get us out of it and we would be lucky if the cops caught us before they did. And we believed them.
My greatest fear in life? Disappointing my mother and father, and disappointing my pastor.
marvelous post, best of the bunch. Many things I did not immediately remember or their analogs, are in it,