BACK WHEN THINGS WERE WEIRD.

THE STREETLIGHTS WERE OUR CURFEW.

There was a time when parents didn't track your location. They didn't need to. The neighborhood had a perfectly good system: when the streetlights came on, your freedom expired.

Until then, you could be anywhere. On your bike. At the park. At a friend's house three blocks away. Nobody sent a text asking for your ETA, because nobody had a text — or an ETA.

You just knew that when the sky turned orange, it was time to pedal home like your dinner depended on it. Because it did.

SATURDAY MORNING WAS SACRED.

Before streaming and on-demand television, Saturday morning was an event. You got up early, poured a bowl of cereal that was mostly sugar, and parked yourself in front of the television.

There was no pause button. If you missed your favorite show, you waited a week. The schedule was the schedule. And somehow, that made it better.

YES, WE DRANK FROM THE HOSE.

After hours outside, nobody ran into the house to find a filtered bottle of water. You found the nearest garden hose, let it run until the water wasn't hot, and drank.

It tasted vaguely like rubber and freedom. Was it ideal? Probably not. Was it a defining childhood memory? Absolutely.