Replies

I can identify. I broke my nose in 7th grade on a bad bar on a set of monkey bars. My wife says the lump adds to my character.

I wouldn't trade the playgrounds in for anything.

Even though everyone has this picture in their minds of what life in a community like Gary was like, I can tell you that I did everything that most others here did. We built go-karts out of all manner of stuff, and when we got tired of that, we took the same wood to build treehouses. We played incessantly on playgrounds with huge sliding boards (those things were HOT in the summer sun!) and monkey bars and see saws and swings (I ALMOST got the thing to go all the way around on more than one occasion). We played dodge ball, kickball, baseball, basketball, and football.

We lived across from the elementary school that my brother, sister and I went to as kids. One day, when I was in junior high, I went as far as to tee up a golf ball on our front lawn and launch it at the school. To this day, I'm sure the janitor has no idea how a golf ball broke a window at a school nowhere close to a golf course...

We rode bikes - in the street, mind you - we played in the dirt, we had snowball fights.

I've got my share of battle scars. Those that know me have seen a large hook-shaped scar on my forearm. That's just one of those battle scars, stiches and all.

By the reckoning of those who try to over-protect everyone today, we should all be dead. But damn, if we didn't have fun doing it...

If my kids have half as much fun getting the battle scars of life's experience, then I've done a better than half-assed job as a parent.