Demographers love to attach letters or names to groups of people — Boomers, Generation X, Millennials, and Generation Z, to name a few. Everyone gets a cute little box or nickname. But for some of us, I’d like to offer an alternative going forward: Generation F—a period of fun and freedom.

While not as sexy as others, Gen F is not rigidly defined by birth year. Rather, Gen F is based more on your childhood experiences — a world where you focused on fun and the freedom to exist. Life for this generation included lots of sunshine, roaming neighborhoods without a plan, and surviving on a different set of skills than troop leaders were teaching Scouts.

Gen F probably existed during the greatest window of childhood freedom that ever existed. Untethered to digital devices, free from constant travel sports, and pretty much expected to survive until sunset each day on our undeveloped wits. Even parenting was comparatively hands-off compared to the modern all-knowing, always-hovering helicopter model. But make no mistake, the belt was always on the table and discipline, when called for, was delivered decisively and swiftly. No such thing as empty threats for Generation F — our parents’ spines were as stiff as the tanned leather belt.

But oh, what freedom, so long as you kept from hanging yourself with the long rope of trust extended.

Gaming at night didn’t mean sitting in the dark of our bedrooms jumping on a multiplayer video game, blowing up zombies or invading forces. Our nighttime games included draping tall trees in white toilet paper, rolls of paper unwinding in the moonlight and then finding their way back down to earth through branches like a giant game of Pachinko.

Nighttime also brought eggs (not the best choice in retrospect), ding-dong-ditch (ring the doorbell and run), even for a while — streaking. Yes, that streaking.

Our days usually started with our parents ushering us outside and telling us to go find something to do — and be back for dinner. There was an unstated code among parents that if someone else’s kid showed up around lunchtime, you fed them. As for us, we ate what was offered — or else. Being rude to another adult was not acceptable (remember the belt).

Our imaginations led us to places a Google search engine would never conceive. We dug dirt forts four feet deep with working fireplaces. We took turns jumping off dirt cliffs to see how far we could fly. And we even explored sewers and underground tunnels designed to move waste and floodwaters. And we built skateboard ramps from wood gathered from, well, we won’t go there (not sure what the statute of limitations is).

Bikes took us from around the block to across town — exploring and discovering new worlds daily. A few coins could get us drinks from a grocery store, and no one ever locked up their bikes.

Today’s world feels odd to Generation F. We bristle at being told what to do vs. what is expected. We still trust one another and appreciate that our freedom was, in essence, earned.

We might not have the coolest nickname, but Generation F ran the world.

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