I am also a late 60's model...
Some childhood memories.
My dad worked at the local airport it was way out in the country back then. When I turned 8 or 9 years old. He would drop me off at the airport junk yard just across the taxiway from the main runway with a brick of .22 LR ammo and an old lever action .22 rifle. I'd spend all day shooting cans old burned out runway lights and other assorted junk. The airport manager would come by and encourage me to shoot any rats that were seen. At 1700 dad would come pick me up and we'd go home. That was the best babysitter ever invented.
And you know what? I never once did anything stupid or dangerous the whole time. We didn't have school shootings back then and even at that age I was a responsible member of the community who could be trusted with things like the privilege of using a firearm.
School yard games included my personal favorite called smear the queer. Also known as dodge ball but we played it with a tennis ball. We'd also play army and shoot and "kill" each other all the time. Many of my teachers were WWII vets, both of my grandfathers were and we were darn proud of it and tried to emulate them in all things.
My first bike was a green Schwinn Stinger with a silver sparkled banana seat. The day I got the training wheels off of and could "bank" it in the turns it became my personal P-51 Mustang which I rode 3 to 4 hours a day everyday on some kind of combat sortie to keep the neighborhood safe from the Third Reich or invading Japs. Sometimes we'd have to switch and my beloved Mustang would become an ME-109 so that the other kids could get a chance to be the good guy in the dog fight.
It was 6 and 3/4 miles from my house to the school. I'd ride it every day that the weather was good enough. My parents never gave it a second thought and as long as I was home 30 minutes after sunset which was everyday unless I went home early to get my BB gun and it was all good.
Here's one that would floor your average modern day school nanny. I used to regularly show up to school during hunting season with either a shotgun or rifle in the rear window rifle rack of my Pick Up during hunting season. And of course so did just about every other boy at school. It would have never occurred to us not to. If some little weirdo would have ever started shooting up the school he would have been a DEAD SOB real quick as a 150 guys ran to their trucks to grab .30-30's off the rack.
If you had an unresolved issue with another kid you could take it to the gym teacher and he'd supply the boxing gloves and let you two duke it out until you both came to a mutual agreement on who the winner was. And that was the end of it. Bullies don't last long when you can call them out like that.
It was a different time. And it wasn't that long ago.