Playground near NYU, 1975
I miss when playgrounds were just heaps of wooden stuff. Nothing says playtime like a six inch long splinter, asphalt, and smashed beer bottles.
The playground we went to the most had broken beer bottle ‘drifts’ in the corners where all the glass had washed to.
We’d play with that glass. Our parents didn’t care. Well, they did, but they’d just tell from the wooden benches on the perimeter, “ERIC! Put that down!”
The late 70’s early 80’s version of helicopter parenting.
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