That is really sad. We used to play baseball at every opportunity; it was
the game of choice during elementary school recess, at least when we
weren't playing some violent, little-boy variant of "tag". I wonder what
brought about this culture-shift from benign parental neglect to obsessive
parental control?

Odd. My parents were traditional Catholics and raised us strictly; my
father was, in addition, an upper-middle-class product of the 1920s-to-1940
old South (but an enlightened one; he left in his youth because he found it
"suffocating" -- his word). But they used to blithely let me at age 14
spend the weekend with a friend whose father ran the Dole plantation and
factory in Elspeth Huxley-Thika, driving back with the company driver after
school on Friday to their spread, where we'd spend a nice weekend on pot
and beer and rock 'n' roll. Then I'd have to hitchhike home back to our
house on the far side of Nairobi on a hot Sunday afternoon, slightly hung
over, no traffic on the lonely, rolling 2-lane back to the big city. As
long as I turned up for Sunday dinner at about 5 pm, they were quite
content to let me be.

On Mon, Mar 5, 2018 at 3:47 AM, ascpgh <[email protected]> wrote:

> No pick up games around here, despite two fields couple blocks either way.
> Kids and baseball mean minivans and gear bags full of multiple three digit
> aluminum bats, Oakley eyeshades,  special water bottles, coolers with
> Gatorade, latest model cleats, etc. but nothing as sophisticated as a
> Nocona glove. Another fun sport that used to be easy and not require
> parents to play lost to the arms race.
>
> ...
>

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