Miscellany

[Crumb]

[Miisa]

Now the ice dome guys have put up a notice saying it is too hot to work.

[JoeP]

[Janet]

I don't remember what thread it was where we talked about paisley house coats from the Seventies. I just remember remembering my mom had one. Now I've found proof, in a picture of me I had my sister scan recently. We called it Reaching for the Breadbox and for some reason I can't recall, it's probably the most memorable picture of my childhood to all of us.

[Crumb]

A twitter choose your own adventure: Linky

[JoeP]

... Have you played it?

[The Lone Ranger]

Parents investigated for neglect after letting kids walk home alone.

When I was 10, I thought nothing of getting up at sunrise and wandering all day -- usually by myself, sometimes with one of my younger sisters. I often wound up miles from home before I turned around and headed back. If my parents or any of the neighbors thought that was alarming behavior on my part, they never said so. They trusted that I wouldn't do anything stupid, that nobody was going to abduct me, and that if I got into trouble, I would seek -- and receive -- adult help.

There was a store a couple of miles up the road, and on a hot summer's day, I thought nothing of walking to the store while carrying a sack. I'd stop to pick up bottles alongside the road; usually by the time I got to the store, I'd have collected enough bottles that I could use the return fee to buy a Coke.


Granted, I grew up in the country, and could spend all day wandering in the woods and fields without encountering another human being. On the other hand, it's likely that this was more dangerous than wandering around a suburban area, since I could conceivably have been injured without anyone else being near-enough to provide help.


It's all but impossible to imagine my nieces and nephews being allowed that kind of freedom, though. Why? Is it because they're in more danger than my sisters and I were when we were that age? Not according to the statistics.

I imagine it has everything to do with the media constantly sowing fear and paranoia.

[Miisa]

Jesus. My kids have had to walk or bike to and from school - a mile or so each way - since they were 7. But the overbearing monitoring is slowly creeping in here too.

[Ensign Steve]

I was a latchkey kid from about grade 6, age 11. My friends and I all had bicycles and we ran around doing whatever the fuck we wanted from about midday when we would ditch out of school into the evenings when our parents got home. I never felt unsafe, but then we were stupid reckless kids, so why would we? We did all kinds of risky stuff and definitely suffered some consequences. In two separate bike accidents I smashed out my front teeth and gave myself a concussion. There was this makeshift bridge across the "wash" that we weren't supposed to cross, but it saved blocks off our trip so kids were always putting it back up and/or reinforcing it like little beavers, and it was an accident waiting to happen. And then it did! One of my little friends was walking on it after a heavy rain and it washed out from under her and she went in the drink. Nobody knew where she was for a while and her parents started getting worried but then she finally arrived home soaking wet and freezing but otherwise none the worse for wear. Mostly she was pissed because her textbooks got all water-damaged and she had to pay to have them replaced.

In conclusion, kids these days. So fucking soft.

OTOH, I still always see little packs of ruffians on bikes running around my little city, looking like they're up to no good. So sweet.

Edit: Looks like they have put a real bridge in the interim: Google Maps Soft ass kids!

[Hermit]

Originally Posted by The Lone Ranger

Parents investigated for neglect after letting kids walk home alone.

When I was 10, I thought nothing of getting up at sunrise and wandering all day -- usually by myself, sometimes with one of my younger sisters. I often wound up miles from home before I turned around and headed back. If my parents or any of the neighbors thought that was alarming behavior on my part, they never said so. They trusted that I wouldn't do anything stupid, that nobody was going to abduct me, and that if I got into trouble, I would seek -- and receive -- adult help.

There was a store a couple of miles up the road, and on a hot summer's day, I thought nothing of walking to the store while carrying a sack. I'd stop to pick up bottles alongside the road; usually by the time I got to the store, I'd have collected enough bottles that I could use the return fee to buy a Coke.


Granted, I grew up in the country, and could spend all day wandering in the woods and fields without encountering another human being. On the other hand, it's likely that this was more dangerous than wandering around a suburban area, since I could conceivably have been injured without anyone else being near-enough to provide help.


It's all but impossible to imagine my nieces and nephews being allowed that kind of freedom, though. Why? Is it because they're in more danger than my sisters and I were when we were that age? Not according to the statistics.

I imagine it has everything to do with the media constantly sowing fear and paranoia.

Perceptions change. I was raised in a medium sized city. The reason I remember walking to Kindergarten on my own was that I was knocked over by a motorbike while crossing the road on my way there one day. Four or five year old kids don't have very good judgement of distance or speed.

The rider picked up his big, black BMW and I continued on my way. He noticed that I had left one of my sandals behind and decided to take me back home to my parents. Mum sat me on the kitchen table and checked me out. No concussion, no broken bits. Just a graze and one or two pink bits of skin that would turn out to be bruises. I was told to be more careful in the future.

Two years later I was escorted along the way to my first day in primary school. It was about two kilometres away. After that I walked to and from it on my own. Yes, occasionally there was scuttlebutt going around about someone who exposed himself to children in the park I walked through along the way, or somesuch, but nobody, not close relations, not neighbours, not distant acquaintances ever suggested that shepherding might be in order.

Different times.

[Crumb]

Originally Posted by JoeP

... Have you played it?

Yes, I died twice.

[lisarea]

The thing that gets me is that there's usually no explicit law saying when a child is considered old enough to do things alone.

Also that even a ten year old needs to identify as a 'free range kid' and carry a laminated card signed by his parents LOL. Kids mature differently, so it's always going to be a judgment call, but the vast majority of ten year olds should be getting around on their own. If kids don't learn some self-sufficiency along the way as they're growing up, they're going to be totally unprepared when they eventually do get out on their own.

(And allow me to retell the story about how, when I was four, my mom gave me some money and told me to take my two year old sister to the store to get her some shoes. I only know the story because my mom used to tell it to illustrate how she kept forgetting that I was a little kid, and she only remembered it becasue the neighbor lady was kind of freaked out when she told her where we were. But we did make it to the store and back without anyone calling the cops or anything.)

It has to have something to do with the panicky 24 hour news cycle, because the world (or our world) is a much safer place now than it was when most of us were kids, but we've become way more paranoid. Some things really were kind of crazy and needed fixing, but holy crap we really overshot that.

[LadyShea]

We ALL walked to school in SoCal. We rode our bikes to the library and the park etc., we walked in the hills. Hell I rode my pony around. WTF?

[Ensign Steve]

But, pea! Did you get the shoes?

[lisarea]

Well, yeah, I got the shoes. What am I, some kind of a dumb baby?

[Hermit]

Hehe, 'free range kid'. That reminds me. I did have a problem once as a free range kid once. There was going to be a formula two race down the road a couple of months before I turned 14. My hero, two time formula one world champion Jim Clark, was going to be there. I had to go. When I say the race was down the road, I mean about 80 kilometres down the road. For someone without a drivers license that might look like it would present a bit of a difficulty, but not for me. I had a pushbike, so ner ner. I'm going.

I told mum of my plan to go to Hockenheim on Saturday and be back on Monday. Since the Easter holidays started on Friday afternoon that wouldn't be a problem at all. Mum just said "NO!!!" I went to my room in a huff, determined to never ever speak to her again. Ever! Half an hour later my parents entered and announced they had decided I could go after all. Yahooo.

With pannier bags packed, water bottle clipped to the belt and protected by my anorak against the somewhat chilly breeze I set off somewhat later than intended in the afternoon. The headwind made the going a little tough, but I was determined. Before the halfway mark things got a little worse. I've never travelled more than maybe ten or 20 kilometres at a time before, so it came as a bit of a surprise that bike saddles are not the best thing to sit on for a great amount of time. My bum got rather sore. Eventually I relieved some of the discomfort by pedalling standing up from time to time. That of course increased wind resistance, but as I said, I was determined.

By the time I trundled through Mannheim, about the three quarter way mark, it was getting dark. Being German, my bike was equipped to handle that. Front and rear lights were standard, and so was the fact that the electricity for them was supplied by a dynamo one could engage with a flick of the foot switch. On I went until I got to the outskirts of Hockenheim. This is where my plan was not so clear. In fact, there was no plan beyond getting to Hockenheim. I didn't even know where the racecourse was, nobody had come up with Google maps yet, and the map I had showed all the roads but no racecourse. There was some garagey looking thing with lots of lights on a few hundred metres to the side of the road. Might ask for directions there. It turned out to be a workshop the Ferrari team had rented for the occasion. Half a dozen mechanics were casually milling about two incredibly small cars. So that's what they look like in real life. Unfortunately nobody there spoke German or English and I did not speak Italian. Nevertheless, we "talked" for a while, though I can't remember what about. The only detail of our chat remaining was one of the mechanics pointing at my field flask and asking "Vino?" They let me sit in the cockpit of one of the racers and gave me the previous year's Ferrari yearbook when I left an hour or so later.

Quite a treasure it turned out to be, as I discovered when I pulled up at a milk bar in the town itself. 130 pages with lots and lots of photos, some of them in colour, boasting of last year's racing achievements, the chief of which was Ferraris's win of the constructor's sports racing car world championship featuring a 1-2-3 win at the 24 hour race in Daytona. The bloke behind the counter told me how to get to the racecourse. Nice, that. Not so nice was when he put a rubber stamp of his business on the cover of my treasure while I was on the toilet.

So, on I went, but then the light went out all of a sudden. The wire connecting the dynamo with the bulb had somehow snapped or chafe apart. I melted a bit of insulation off each end with matches I brought along, but the remaining wire was not long enough any more. Every time I turned the handlebar to the left the ends separated again. While I stood there scratching my head and wondering what to do next a car pulled up right next to me. What a stroke of luck. Police patrol. Their motto was "Your friend and helper" at the time. So I explained my predicament. They loaded my bike into their boot, which would of course not shut. Heh. So what. They'll take me to someone who'll fix the wire. A few minutes later we stopped. Outside the police station. I was led into a cell. And locked up. And then one drunk after another was added to my company. Well, the town was gradually filling up with 120,000 people who have come for entertainment.

After an hour or so I was brought out again. Into the car again. The bike was in the boot again. We took off again. Well, progress at last. Pig's arse. They were going completely the wrong way. "Stop. Stop You're going the wrong way. The racecourse is back thataway." They bloody ignored me and half an hour later I was back in fucking Mannheim. Pricks! Not only Mannheim, but a fucking prison for juvenile delinquents with glossy toilet-green corridors, glossy toilet-green cells secured by glossy toilet-green steel doors and chunky, rusty steel bars on windows. Covered by two rough felt blankets I fell asleep almost immediately. It was well past midnight by then after all, and I had a fairly exhausting day.

The following morning a warden wordlessly brought me two slices of black bread with margarine and jam on a tin plate and a tin mug containing lukewarm, weak instant coffee with lots of milk in it. I asked him when I'll be let out. He shrugged his shoulders and left. Half an hour later I was escorted to an office. There I was told that I was an Ausreisser and would remain here until my parents picked me up. And by the way what's your father's phone number? Luckily, my parents convinced my captors that I was not truant at all, and that they are preventing me to watch the races. Before I knew it, the bike was back in a car's boot, which would not shut, and we were on our way to Hockenheim. The guys dropped me off at a bike stand right next to the main gate which also sold tickets. So, all forgiven then.

In later trips I always took the precaution of carrying a dated, signed and hand written not of permission from my parents with me. Hight tech laminated photo documents were not required nor expected in those days.



The races were a blast, especially since I discovered a hole in a chainwire fence which enabled me to get into the drivers' compound and the pit area. I managed to chat with my hero as well as his team mate, Graham Hill, who also was a a formula one world champion and would be one again at the end of the year. While they could understand my questions, spoken in school-boy English, I could not understand most of their answers. They spoke too fast. Way too fast for someone for whom English was a second language and at that stage only ever used in English lessons. Still, it was a thrill.

Until it all turned to disaster. After a few laps into the first heat Clark failed to appear at the entrance of the Sachs Kurve at the expected time. The public announcement informed us that he had an off. A few minutes later it said that he is being airlifted to hospital. What had happened in fact was that he crashed into the forest at 240 km/h or more and hit a tree. It split his car in half and killed him on the spot. My way back was filled with sadness and incredulity. The sore bum was almost a welcome distraction, but my parents were relieved to see me safely returned and probably a little proud that their son had the courage, persistence and sufficient nous to get through a somewhat challenging adventure of his own devising.

[Gonzo]

I found Tim Brewer and Martin's Facebook profiles and am kind of surprised that they are exactly how they present themselves on as they appear to their friends and family. o.O

I always kind of thought they were kidding...

[Stormlight]

Originally Posted by The Lone Ranger

Parents investigated for neglect after letting kids walk home alone.

I find this perfectly fine, quite frankly. If you let your kids run around outside without supervision don't come crying on my ass if they're shot by a cop.

[Hermit]

Originally Posted by Stormlight

I find this perfectly fine, quite frankly. If you let your kids run around outside without supervision don't come crying on my ass if they're shot by a cop.

So, neglect charges can only be laid against afro-Americans, amiright?

[Stormlight]

In a perfect world, yes.

[Ymir's blood]

Originally Posted by Gonzo

I always kind of thought they were kidding...

Never underestimate the power of the crazy.

[Ensign Steve]

Hell, that makes them more honest than me! gets the real me. My Facebook wall is a pack of lies!

[Crumb]

[lisarea]

And also on that note:

How to write an Oscar-nominated movie, 2015 edition - The Washington Post

[JoeP]

The ice dome collapsed!

De large balloon which was partially set in ice is ripped by pressure by heavy gusts of wind against the top. Within a few days the balloon will be repaired and re-inflated.