[Archives] The adventures of a Florida boy (part 1)
In the 1960s, kids ran as far and wild as their imaginations would take them.
On May 10 of last year, I published the first of sixteen episodes of a mostly good-natured memoir called The Adventures of a Florida boy. Since then, I have picked up a couple of thousand new subscribers, many of whom might not even know that this series exists.
So I decided to repost episode 1 with links to the other 15 segments. Anyone who grew up in Florida back in the 1960s and ‘70s will get a kick out of this series. But it really extends beyond just that. Anyone who grew up in that time frame almost anywhere will probably relate.
If you’ve already read my series, great! If not, here’s a chance to climb on board.
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Part 1 — May 10, 2023
My boyhood was spent in Florida in the 1960s on an island called Coquina Key. My parents’ waterfront home overlooked a large expanse of Tampa Bay. Back then, parts of the island were undeveloped, which left plenty of room for climbing trees, digging forts in the sand, and swimming in shark-infested waters (though we didn’t give the latter much thought).
I was lucky to have a lot of friends close to my age living on my street just a few houses away. There could anywhere from two to 20 of us at any given moment.
A non-school day typically went like this:
Leap out of bed.
Put on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and raggedy sneakers (we would have gone barefoot if not for the sandspurs).
Scarf down a bowl of sugary cereal.
Rush out the door.
Play with friends until noon.
Rush inside for a PB&J sandwich, potato chips, and a Coke.
Rush back out the door.
Play with friends until dinnertime.
Scarf a quick dinner (creamed chipped beef on mashed potatoes was a favorite of mine).
Rush back out the door.
Play with friends until well after dark.
Finally come home and go to bed.
I know it sounds like a cliche, but we rarely watched TV except for a show or two in the evenings, and there were no video games, no smart phones, no texting, etc. When I went out to play, I went out to play.
Every day my friends and I would invent something to entertain us.
Maybe we were knights in shining armor with sticks as swords and garbage can lids as shields.
Maybe we dug elaborate underground forts that we hid from the rest of the world by covering them with plywood and a layer of sand.
Maybe we were deep-sea divers, swimming WAYYY too far out into Tampa Bay (which has more than its share of bull sharks and hammerheads) and then seeing how deep we could dive on one breath. When one of us reached the bottom and came up with a handful of seaweed and sand, we called that “proof,” as in proof that you had made it. (Kids our age did not take another kid’s word for much of anything; “proof” was required because our daily physical activities were too fiercely competitive.)
Maybe we jumped on our bikes and rode for miles all over town, often on busy roads with heavy traffic. I did this—mostly with friends but sometimes alone—when I was as young as 7.
Lost in Space was a popular TV show. We acted that out a lot. A tubby friend of mine was the robot. Even though I was the skinniest kid, I often took on the role of leader. For instance, I was John Robinson.
The earliest James Bond movies were also popular, but everybody wanted to be James.
The scary vampire TV show Dark Shadows was another favorite. My friends and I killed a lot of vampires in broad daylight.
Other popular shows included Mission Impossible, The Outer Limits, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (I was always Napoleon Solo, even though I had white-blond hair. I once talked my mom into dyeing it brown, but it ended up turning green. I was ahead of my time.)
And of course, we played every sport imaginable: baseball, basketball, football, kickball, even kill-the-carrier.
Nowadays, I’m a novelist who writes mostly epic fantasy. Some adults might consider that a childish genre.
I tend to agree. It’s the child in me who fuels my stories. My imagination was born during a time when children ran wild—and a time when “wild” didn’t mean drugs or sex.
It meant “in the wild.”
I wouldn’t trade my boyhood for the world.
I wouldn’t trade my imagination, either.
The adventures of a Florida boy
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Park 16
I grew up in the 1970s in the UK. It was similar to how you described but an urban existence. We were hardly ever at home, but did have to be back when the street lights went on. The streets were our playground and the local school playing fields (which of course are now fenced off). It’s rare to see children playing in the street now. When they do, they are labelled a nuisance. Did those people who call them so never recall their own childhood? We have had letters through the door from the council saying kids can’t play football in the street. There are fewer places for them to go. Most facilities that were free to use then are now profit driven and it costs for any activities. There are so many rules about what the kids can and can’t do and lots of fences to keep them out. My son gets turfed off the university grounds were he likes to ride his bike and hangout, as the security think they are there to cause trouble. It’s harder to be wild and that is a shame.