Growing up in the city come in when the street lights come on. Now when the shed lights come on its time to get ready for dinner
You made me remember a time when I wondered a little too far from home as a kid. My Dad hollered for supper for quite awhile and I didn't hear him so he came looking with belt in hand. The last Thanksgiving I still had my Dad I was telling that story and he didn't remember. I said I sure did, he chased me home, I'd take about 3 steps and crack, 3 more and crack, etc. We had a good laugh at the dinner table.
I grew up in the burbs of Cincinnati, SW Ohio corner. We had a street light at the intersection just adjacent to my house. We played a lot of wiffle ball football, kick the can, hide and seek... Family 2 houses down had 13 kids. I used to love listening to them call the kids for dinner and then watching them all come running down the street.
No street light here. I grew up on a dairy farm, so for many months every year it was dark when it was time for milking the cows. Summer or winter, a lot of the time my parents didn't know nor care where I was. If supper had been served without me, I then had to do without supper. I don't do the milking today but also don't worry about street lights or dinner.
A loud whistle was used to summon myself from where ever in the neighborhood I might be. Only my parents did it and the neighborhood knew what hearing it meant. One of the neighbors had a big bell they would use for their boys.
