Boomer Musings: The “other” Golden Rule

By: J. Leslie Riseden

Special Contributor to The Steel Country Bee

  When I was a "tween", my friends and I stayed outdoors as much as we could in the summertime. Along with a typical group of kids my age, we flew as far and as wide as we dared to go on our bikes. We explored construction sites, lost money at traveling carnivals and -- when we wanted to cool off -- strolled the aisles at Woolworth's or thumbed through comic books at Rexall drug store. We counted the cars of passing trains, inspected the occasional dead animal, and drank water from unattended garden hoses. We put air in our tires at the local gas station, and ate junk food all day.

When we wanted to rest, we'd circle around to the back of a store, and jump up on the loading dock. There we sat, swinging our legs and drinking a cold root beer, as if relaxing after a hard day's work. We rehashed the day's strange encounters, and re-lived each terror and delight. We were miles from home, sometimes, among strangers of every ilk. Somehow, in retrospect, I have this sense that we were never in danger. I wonder if we were and just didn't know it. As the sun fell behind the building, we began to think of heading home, and how long it might take. Of course, none of us wore a watch. Why would we? Time was measured in distance and obstacles. Train tracks. Loose dogs. Detours. Uphill stretches. But one rule held true for us all -- the other golden rule by which all of us arranged our leisurely schedules: Be home before the streetlights come on.

Rounding the corner of my street, I saw the sun dip below the horizon, and knew it would be only moments before those giant sentries announced to all that it was time for me to be inside. I stood up on the pedals and pushed faster, my handlebars jerking wildly left and right as I raced forward. Jumping the curb and veering into the driveway, I skidded into the carport, barely stopping before I jumped off my bike and leaned it against the wall. The screen door slammed as I landed breathlessly in the kitchen. What? Where is everyone? I made my way to the den, where I found my parents, drinking a cold beer, relaxing after a hard day's work. "Oh, hi, darling. Dinner’s almost ready." Safe. Again.