The porch light was on, and I could see the glow from the TV screen shining through the front window. But the front door was locked.

We never locked the front door ... not in those days in Los Gatos. We saw no need to.

Oh, during the day when no one was home we might lock things up. Or if we were going away for a few days, we'd probably lock the doors. But it was a different time—a time when we could leave the door unlocked and not worry about an intruder bursting into our living room.

So because the door was always unlocked, we never carried around our house keys. Mom knew that ... that's why she locked the front door. See, I'd been known to sneak in after my curfew, carefully tiptoe through the living room so as not to wake her, and slip down the hall to my bedroom. Then, I'd double back.

"Mom, time to go to bed," I'd bellow.

She'd wake up, startled. "When did you get home?"

"Oh, I've been back for a long time," I'd say. "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to disturb you."

It wasn't exactly a lie—just a bit of a stretch. She knew it, too. She just didn't have any proof.

By locking the door, she would have the proof she needed. She knew that I'd have to knock—loudly enough to wake her from where she slept on the couch but softly enough so as not to wake up Dad (he wouldn't be quite as understanding about my late arrival—Mom might yell, but Dad would take my car away ... I decided to always deal with Mom).

It's a different world now than it was 35 years ago, though.

Oh, kids are still coming in late, and dads are still taking cars away as punishment. I still wait up on the couch for my boys, just as my mom did for me. The porch light is on, and the glow from the TV screen lights up the front window.

But my kids will have their keys with them—because our door is locked. Actually, our door is usually double locked. The windows are all secured with special bolts, and there's a padlock on the gate to the backyard.

Of course, the society my sons live in is much different than that I was raised in. We were more trusting of others because we could be. Today there are just too many tragedies occurring every day. Times have changed—we have to be much more careful.

Now, change isn't all bad. I wouldn't give up my DVD player for anything, and I love my cell phone. But I do miss the more innocent times of my youth.

It wasn't a perfect time. We had Joe McCarthy and his hunt for communists, and someone shot our president. But there was no such thing as terrorist alert status, and I could drive for days on a dollar's worth of gas (now a buck won't even fill up the gas can for the lawn mower).

Grass was for mowing, not smoking, and when someone would suggest that we go out for coke, they were talking about Coca Cola.

The only time we would talk about excessive fat was when no one wanted to pick a kid for their baseball team because he was a little too plump, and the only grams we counted were the Graham Crackers we devoured with our chocolate milk after school.

And when we got home from school, we walked right into the house because the door was always unlocked. Mom was home because families didn't have to pull in two paychecks just to make ends meet.

Of course, we're probably better off today knowing what we know about such things as fat grams and the dangers of drug abuse. Women no doubt enjoy fulfillment as equals in the workplace, and the technology of this era has certainly improved our quality of life.

But it was nice to live in a society where we didn't have to worry about locking our doors.

It's a feeling that my children, unfortunately, will never understand.

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.