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Where You Grew Up and the Demographics

posted 6/29/2008 6:41:45 PM |
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  Wordsofwit

Softy's blog and some comments on it got me thinking about the ethnic environment we were raised in, especially those of us over the age of 50. I grew up in a suburban LA neighborhood where the residents came in two varieties of vanilla, protestant and catholic.

Additionally, it was several miles to the nearest apartment complex and there was only one house on the block where anybody divorced lived.

Leave it to Beaver was very real to me except that Wally and the Beaver never saw the business end of a belt. I don't think that I even spoke to person of another race until I was in high school. I never encountered any. All of that seems so strange and distant to day.

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Comments:

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Ewe_Wish

Jun 29 @ 6:50PM  
I was raised in a vey rural community that was mostly made up of native americans and finnish people. Kinda different for a girl that was 3/4 irish. Everyone was married......whether happily or not.........and we didnt have apt. complexes we had farms. Everyone was like an extended family and were real close and watched out for each other and each others children. It was nothing for the neighbor to catch us doing something wrong and bust our bottoms, no matters whose kids you were.........and when you got home dad usually did it again.

When someone lost a job......everyone kicked in and helped with groceries, babisitting whatever was needed. Everyone was poor, so no one thought they were better than anyone else. I hated it then.........but looking back on it now.....I wish life was that way again............

great blog Bruce
Wordsofwit

Jun 29 @ 7:05PM  
It was nothing for the neighbor to catch us doing something wrong and bust our bottoms, no matters whose kids you were.........and when you got home dad usually did it again.

Yeah, you got that right only it went beyond double jeopardy in our neighborhood. Somebody's mother caught you and either ordered you home after a few swats followed by a phone call or you were escorted home by her. Even if the offense was a misdemeanor, having it reported by another adult increased to a felony.

Once you got home, your mom worked you over while bitching and concluded the conversation with those six hideous words, "Wait until your father gets home." You then sat in your room on death row awaiting the executioner to arrive. Nine times out of ten he was not in a good mood upon arrival.
sugarnspice005

Jun 29 @ 7:05PM  
I grew up in a little neighborhood where everyone knew each other. All of us kids in the neighborhood were friends who were always outside playing. In front of my parents house was a Methodist Church, behind their house was a small, family owned grocery store. The owners of that store were like an extended family to my sisters and I. There was only 1 divorced family in neighborhood...and that was after her husband threatened her life while she was pregnant with their 2nd child. There was a pool company up the road that had a german shepherd for a "watchdog". (we discovered that feeding the dog after the company closed for the night made the dog like us. ) There used to be sand piles in the front of the pool company that us neighborhood kids could play on...the owners of the company allowed it. The streets were quiet...just locals drove on them. It was a very close knit neighborhood. The parents would get together and chat while the kids played.

In looking back....I realize I had it made as a kid...I had friends, was outside more than inside...we had FUN. And didn't need computers or video games to keep ourselves entertained.
Ashinatrix

Jun 29 @ 8:23PM  
Just your run-of-the-mill upper-middle-class neighborhood.......

I'm just so relieved I didnt live in one of those types of
'hoods' where drug-addicted/alcoholic/Satan worshippers
would molest their own children...........
Wordsofwit

Jun 29 @ 9:18PM  
There was so much naivety in us. I remember taking my bike to the store to pick up some items for my mom when I was around 12 and my nine your old brother wanted to go. In the shopping center there was a lounge called "Johnny's" and in the parking lot near "Johnny's" I found a five dollar bill in the parking lot.

Riding back, my brother fell behind. My mom was out front waiting when I rode up. She asked, "Where's Tommy?"
I was grinning as I pulled the five out of my pocket. "I sold him to some drunk at 'Johnny's' for five bucks!"
She freaked, "WHAT!?!? How could you!?!?"
"Oh it was easy, mom," as I imitated a drunk, "the guy was really sloshed."
About that time Tommy turned the corner and she read me the riot act without explaining what a pedophile was. I didn't know any better.
girlcountry

Jun 29 @ 11:13PM  
I didn't really grow up anywhere....we moved on the average of every 2 yrs., my dad was a preacher. I envy those of you that had a place that you could call "home" and go back to and see how everything has changed or not.
DesertSmile

Jun 30 @ 1:14AM  
Born and raised in suburbs of St. Louis to a large Irish Catholic family in a neighborhood surrounded by other large Catholic families. I think it was the water.

While my parents struggled in those early years it never seemed to affect me. We had more than our share of hard times but equally our share of laughter and love...stern at times but love. Of course ask my older sister and she has an entirely different perspective. I still ask her "are you sure we were living in the same house"...she simply saw things so differently than I did.

Sure I knew we wore hand-me-downs but my mother made sure we kids were clean, spit polished and presentable..well all accept me...she dressed me last as I evidently had a habit of disengrating before your very eyes and I never left my assigned spot on the sofa. And our house...you could eat off my mothers floors and she did this with 7 kids racing around.

I loved my early years even when my older brother and I would argue and I would take my little green suitcase and "run away from home". Of course they knew I could always be found in neighborhood treehouse.....LOL
borty293

Jun 30 @ 1:58AM  
I was raised in a post war suburb, where all the houses were the same and most people kept to themselves. There was cubs, scouts, church...I was an alter boy and my bum still hurts. Everybody was white ...shiney white...I remember vicious beatings from my shiney white dad that today would have put him in jail. Everybody looked like Leave It To Beaver on the outside anyways. My boy scout leader was charged with buggery and misteriously died in prison...thank gawd he managed to leave my ass alone...ahhh...the good old fuckn days..eh?
kisses5401

Jun 30 @ 3:10AM  
I grew up in Watertown, N.Y. It was a nice neighborhood where we had a corner store and did not have the need to lock your doors at night. I went home last year for my dad was dying and we sat there in our old living room and watched drug deals go down. What a shame that where i once felt safe and secure had turned into this.
redbronze

Jun 30 @ 1:19PM  
I grew up in the military moved every year until age 10 then ever couple of years after. I also grew up with every race of humanity and we all were the same in the military pretty much from the States. It was more a social/economic/rank differances the split being officer or enlisted men kids and the two did not mix much. So yes there were differances when one lived on base. Off base it was living with the people of the country one was in and preversly the city in the states was not much different because military kids were treated differently than town kids in any situation..
lynxkat

Jul 1 @ 6:57PM  
Great blog! Although I grew up with 'Leave It To Beaver,' my neighborhood was anything but! At the stables down the street, Bev had to have a leg amputated, so she looked nothing like Mrs. Cleaver - plus she was always dressed for working in the barns! Next to the stables was a very nice gay couple - guys - who we weren't supposed to visit, but did a couple times. Next house was one where Mom usually wore cut-offs and a bra and Dad was usually drinking. Between them and my house, Dad was screwing the girls. My house was abnormally normal - strict! - and on the other side were the 'greasers.' At one point, the kids torched the barn . . . . Ah, the good ol' days!

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Where You Grew Up and the Demographics