Johnny Crumm

As kids, my brother, sister and I thought it was great that our parents left us alone to 'be kids' as much as they did. As an adult with kids of my own, I wonder with complete amazement how any of us made it past the age of three. We didn't know how good and bad we had it.
I suppose that the fact that we (me and my two siblings) are all very resourceful and independent is because of our parents consistent albeit convenient lack of oversight. At this point it's a benefit. However, the confusion brought about in our young lives as we grew into adults was tantamount to Vesuvius erupting. It was huge and it ruined everything. Now, once our childhood treasures have uncovered, they're still really beautiful, we just had to dig for years to find them again.

I remember scratching the backs of my legs on this fence all the time. Of course, that didn't stop me from climbing it. The fence was old, rusty and wobbly which made it difficult to climb. The only stable spot was right next to the solitary post that wasn't overgrown with vines that had tiny dark purple berries our parents told us were poisonous. Not that this would seem like a good reason to a parent to remove them from the yard - because kids might act like kids.
The top row of the fence was barbed wire and it ran the rear border of our backyard. Johnny Crumm lived on the other side in a tiny, white clapboard house with his grandmother. I hardly saw her - except once when Johnny invited me for lunch. She made us what today I would call "white trash sandwiches." Basically, these were inexpensive white bread, a single slice of American cheese and Miracle Whip.
Once in a while I'd see evidence of a biological male parent - not really a Dad. As far as I knew, his Mother didn't exist - anywhere. His Dad found his way home a couple times every year around whatever holiday was convenient. I always knew he was around because he  pulled up in a gigantic white Freightliner tractor trailer rig.
Johnny was as solidly sad little person - you could tell even as a little kid that this was his life. At least I had siblings who didn't completely ignore me. I don't think he really had anyone to pay attention to him.
My siblings and our pack of neighborhood friends roamed anywhere we liked and everywhere we pleased as kids. Apparently the fact that we were in our underwear didn't phase us at all.
What I just can't fathom as I look at this picture is why anyone who bothered to put a bandanna on my head (this is definitely not something I would have taken care of on my own) and a jacket on my body and then proceed to take a picture would let me leave the house without my pants on.
This is how it was in our house. The things that my parents did pay attention to seemed a little skewed and consistently irrational. We took full advantage while completely ignorant of the many dangers our little world contained.