I look at my teen age grandchildren and marvel at how
much better parenting that they have than I had. To start
with, I was extremely rebellious. My mother was a control
freak and her chief worry was that I would get pregnant
and disgrace her with an illegitimate child. She need not
have worried because I guarded my chastity religiously. I
know that sounds ridiculous now but it was a whole different time. Any of the dresses at the Grammy last night would have gotten you arrested back then.

I graduated from highschool two months after my seventeenth
birthday and found myself a job with Southwestern Bell and
an apartment with a girl friend. We walked everywhere
because we had no car. The freedom was intoxicating but
I loathed that job on the switchboard. Supervisors walked
up and down behind us, just waiting to pounce on someone
who dared to vary the standard phrases that we were taught
to use, or who made a personal call or God forbid, listened
in on someone's conversation or talked to a neighboring
operator.

I learned a lot from my mistakes and believe me, I made
plenty of them. I remember one wretched week when I
spent my entire pay check on clothes and had just enough
money left over for 2 lbs of Velvetta and a box of
crackers to last for an entire week. I survived.

My landlady was a wonderful woman who mothered me and
loved me, and taught me to cook. Adults seem to care
more then and I remember walking home from work at
midnight and never thinking that it might be dangerous.

I would be horrified if my children or grandchildren
did those things now. It was truly a gentler, kinder
time. We have lost our innocence.