Ah, the memories of our youth. I grew up in the fifties and could walk through the neighborhood with my .22 rifle and a couple of friends on our way to the fields we played in and no one thought anything about it.
I grew up in the 60's only 30 miles north of NYC. We would walk through several neighborhoods with 22's and shotguns on the way to the woods to snap some caps. Most of the properties crossed were owned by people we didn't even know. Nobody ever questioned us. In HS I could bring my cased 22 and ammo on the bus for after school rifle team practice.
At the local store I'd pick things up for Mom using only our last name. One time the burger meat I was sent for never made it home. My brother and I ended up in a rumble with some neighborhood kids that typically roamed around and bullied every chance they got. When we were done the chop meat was spread so thin over somebodies front yard that none could be salvaged. Mom just laughed...... that time.
