I was born in October of 1964, yet somehow consider myself a child of the 80's. It can't possibly have anything to do with the music. Just the words "hair band" makes me itchy. I clearly lived a selfish existence even then, because the first president I remember being aware of was Jimmy Carter. His inauguration was on January 20, 1977. I was in my mid-teens during his presidency. I knew the names Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, but wasn't keenly aware of why they were always in the news. Mrs. Ginn's boy was clearly not headed for the Ivy League.

I have heard it said that America lost her innocence in the 1960's. Personally, I believe it was a little later than that. She may have blushed a little, but I think the Land of Opportunity stood firm a bit longer. We have all heard the axiom, "It takes a village to raise a child." That is the time I come from. When your neighbor or even the guy down the street held nearly as much authority over you as your father. If a kid messed up, he was going to catch it from the other fathers in the neighborhood as well as his own. The village had eyes, and they seemed to see everything.

I recall an incident where I borrowed a guitar capo from an older man who lived a couple blocks away. I didn't take it back to him when I said I would. Today, this is called stealing. It wasn't my father who put the fear of God in me. It was Mr. Windbigler, a man who lived a couple houses away from my victim. I vividly remember him telling me to get the equipment back to the old man or he was going to kick my butt. I timorously returned it and have not "borrowed" anything since. The strangest part is, I don't think my father ever heard about the matter. Not even to this day.

It is a different time. Mr. Windbigler wouldn't dare make a threat to a child not his own in the new millennium. Not without fear of the youngster retrieving a weapon and savagely reminding the neighborhood watchman to mind his own business. Or, that the child's parents would exact revenge for a stranger being so bold as to remonstrate their offspring. A different time, indeed.

Now, a person can sit in front of the computer and pull up videos of students assaulting their teachers as crowds of onlookers cheer. When I was a kid my teachers seemed like superheros. I didn't even think they needed to use the restroom like mortal adults. Come on, did you ever see a teacher in the bathroom doing anything besides looking for ne'er do wells? They were on a different level. Like parents on steroids.

Herein lies my concern. I have three baby boys, all born after 2005. Clearly a different season than that of my youth. Are the boys going to be limited to the guidance, teachings and perspectives of my wife and our immediate family? If so, I find it sad. I know the potential dangers of allowing a child to roam the neighborhood, interacting with the various fathers, distinctive characters and older children. I plan to address those issues in another posting. I'm talking about the loss of the Village. The comfort in knowing that, should your child get into danger, or trouble, there will be a firm voice of reason at hand to guide him or scare him to the point of soiled laundry.

I don't think it has as much to do with the perceived diminution of the "real men" as with the understanding that there are these false boundaries. No fly zones, if you will. Not subordination we, as a society, impose for our own good, such as the advent and eventual promulgation of child safety seats. I am talking about the continuing decline in our ability to see the big picture. If the villagers refuse, due to fear or apathy, to raise the child, that child will have a difficult time reasoning why he should be so amenable as to not burn the village to the ground.