One place we lived had a field behind the house that was full of weeds, bugs, and even had some blackberry bushes, fruit trees (apples and pears) and also a walnut tree. We had BB guns and tried to shoot the heads off of milkweed just as they'd open. But the neighborhood was beginning to develop and houses were going up nearby. Our weed field became a dumping ground for waste lumber and building materials. Of course that's what our parents thought. For us kids, the piles of wood and bent nails were usable supplies. We built a two story club house and who knows what else. We'd pound out and straighten nails and hand saw the lumber. What a treat it was to have this dump to play in.
We rarely wore shoes during the day. Our feet were hardened and capable of walking on gravel...and gravel paths were plentiful. We'd shinny up the trees to pick fruit and nuts. Our legs would be scraped but we didn't care. Bandaids and merthiolate treatments were part of the daily routine. Our parents never told us to stay within site but just not to pick our scabs. 
We had bikes and would venture out with no plan of where to go...just a little further than the day before. We'd be gone for hours. No one had a watch but, somehow, we knew when it was time for lunch or dinner and would return home. PB and J sandwiches were the standard fare. Coke?? no way. It was water mostly but sometimes there was lemonade.
Oh yes, there were no pedophiles. There was, however, the mythical "boogie man" to look out for. ..whatever that meant.
Times have changed.
We had no fear of running the streets all hours of the day or night.
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