We are watching our grandchildren grow up, watching them rebel against authority, and listening to their pleas for autonomy. It made me remember my own coming of age.
I lived at a time when you could not get your Social Security Number until you were sixteen years old. It followed that you could not get a job until you were sixteen, as you needed a Social Security Number for tax purposes. (Exceptions were if you lived and worked on a dairy farm, which I didn’t.)
So I lived in anticipation of being “Sweet Sixteen”. I wanted to work, to make my own money. By this time in my life, my father was not strict. I had kept house and cooked supper for him since my mother died a couple of years before. Money was tight–I received a small allowance.
While finishing high school, I envied the students–usually Seniors, who attended school only half a day, leaving at noon for their jobs. Continue reading