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Summer evenings once meant rushing through supper and racing outside to play. Children from blocks around gathered for Hide-and-Seek, the night’s undisputed first choice.

The group drew straws to decide who would be “it.” The unlucky player covered their eyes against a tree and counted by fives to 100 before asking anyone still unprepared to holler “aye.”

Everyone else scrambled for a hiding place. With so many children playing, familiar spots behind ash pits, garden sheds, doghouses and garages were risky. More inventive choices came with consequences: squeezing between a house and Spirea bushes could mean broken branches and scratches, while hiding beneath a car was less appealing when it leaked oil.

Once the count ended, the search began. Younger players, still developing their hiding strategies, were usually discovered first. After someone was found and tagged, the seeker shouted, “Olly, olly ox in free!” That signal brought everyone back to base for another round.

As darkness settled in, the large group divided into smaller clusters of neighbors to catch lightning bugs. Sometimes the insects went into jars with holes punched in the lids, creating flickering homemade night lights. Children also pinched off their glowing parts and wore them on their fingers like diamond rings—a childhood practice viewed much less fondly today.

Chiggers were another unwelcome feature of those nights. Their bites left itchy, swollen welts around waistbands, armpits and groins. Children coated the spots with clear fingernail polish, believing it would suffocate insects burrowed beneath the skin. That explanation was an old wives’ tale, though the polish may at least have discouraged scratching.

Play continued until it became too dark to avoid colliding with friends or outdoor furniture. Then the children finally trudged home, fell into bed and slept deeply, ready to do it all again the next day.