My dad taught us how to make bows from long bamboo garden canes and gardening string, then notched small garden canes with fire-hardened points to use as arrows.
We used to set up ramps on the road in our estate while it was still being built, using piles of sand and planks left behind by the builders. Then, we'd get some airtime on our BMXs. I still have a scar on my chin today from going over the handlebars.
Back garden fires were a regular occurrence as well. We'd be unsupervised, playing around with flaming sticks, or throwing things into the fire, such as aerosol cans.
None of this seemed to bother my parents.
Then, when my own son was about eleven, I taught him how to breathe fire. It was heavily supervised by me, and we practised with water for an hour until he had the technique down, and I let him have a go with paraffin. He did it perfectly. I recorded it.
I showed the video to my dad, and he was extremely angry that I had taught my son this, seemingly forgetting all the wild things he used to let us get away with when we were children.
I suppose my point is that this is not really a generational thing, but a societal one. Regardless of your generation, in modern society, all adults have a heightened perception of risks, real or imagined.
In general there seems to be a growing attitude of moral outrage towards people who tolerate a bit of risk. As though we all have a moral responsibility to preserve life and safety at basically any cost. It's insane to me. Calculated risk is the spice of life. It also allows for a sense of self-mastery as you overcome your own fear of the unknown by facing it down.
People even have the nerve to criticize those who have an apatite for risk as "selfish," as though they have a moral obligation to not making other people sad or upset by their possible injury or death. Absolute madness.
We used to set up ramps on the road in our estate while it was still being built, using piles of sand and planks left behind by the builders. Then, we'd get some airtime on our BMXs. I still have a scar on my chin today from going over the handlebars.
Back garden fires were a regular occurrence as well. We'd be unsupervised, playing around with flaming sticks, or throwing things into the fire, such as aerosol cans.
None of this seemed to bother my parents.
Then, when my own son was about eleven, I taught him how to breathe fire. It was heavily supervised by me, and we practised with water for an hour until he had the technique down, and I let him have a go with paraffin. He did it perfectly. I recorded it.
I showed the video to my dad, and he was extremely angry that I had taught my son this, seemingly forgetting all the wild things he used to let us get away with when we were children.
I suppose my point is that this is not really a generational thing, but a societal one. Regardless of your generation, in modern society, all adults have a heightened perception of risks, real or imagined.