Unleashed

European parents who raised curious, busy children in urban environments saw nothing wrong with using leashes to control their kids.

My Mom occasionally led me on a harness and leash because I was such a turbo child. My family sometimes joked that I had a "motor in the tail."

Mom and Dad even installed a fence in the backyard so that I would not run away.

Once, I took off so fast that I tripped and fell, face first, on our concrete driveway. I skidded several feet. When I stood up, I had a bruised face.

Suburban Chicago, June 1962. The damage to my face doesn't seem to bother me. What am I doing here? Auditioning for an early version of the "Daisy ad?"