Sunday, July 9, 2017
Ben Stein: Standing the Heat
At American Spectator
Wow. It is hot. I swam for a little while. Then off to lunch at the Beverly Hills Hotel with my makeup artist, writing colleague, and dear friend, Renae. We talked about how and when being a parent in the U.S. middle class became torment. A parent is a chauffeur, body guard, tutor, mentor, butt of the child’s mockery and contempt.
What happened? When I was a lad in the 1950s, our parents could just let us out the door and we wandered all around Silver Spring all day. It was safe and it was fun. At 7 or 8 years old, we could take the D.C. transit bus to Georgetown, walk over the Key Bridge, and buy fireworks in Virginia.
Tommy got to do that in the early and mid 90s when we lived in Sandpoint. Again, it was fun and it was safe. I let him out of the house after breakfast. He came back for lunch and then I saw him and his pals for supper. I never worried about him at all.
Plus, when I was a child, we kids did our own homework. We didn’t have our parents sit with us to do it. Somehow we all knew history and civics and easy algebra. Even Latin. No one had to stand over us with a hickory stick telling us if we didn’t get all A’s we could not go to a decent college. We all knew it. We wanted to go to good colleges.
More American Spectator by Ben Stein