This seems kinda wierd nowadays, but it wasn't then:
Late forties of the last century, Pop bought some property out in Ronkonkoma on Long Island to build a summer home there. It was going to be a "shell house," where the builder put up the shell of the house and it was up to the owner to finish the inside, plumb it, wire it, etc.
But before we could have them put it up, the land had to be cleared, so Pop bought a war surplus 24 foot diameter tent (just like the ones in M*A*S*H) and we'd go out there on weekends, live in the tent, and camp out with my sister and her husband and my brother and work on the property. I still remember the canvas-ey smell of that tent.
Pop also bought us all WWII surplus machetes (except for my Mom and my sister) with their canvas scabbards and we'd whale away at the tough scrub oak and a bunch of trees, clearing the land for the house and driveway and yard and so on.
This was when I was eight or nine years old, and I used to like to prowl around the woods off the property, and range maybe a quarter to a half mile from our land, but there were a bunch of loose dogs always running around, and some of them used to chase me on my bicycle on the one road that serviced this rather primitive area of Long Island. I got real scared once, and after that, my mother would not let me go off the property without my machete!
Like I said, it seems kinda wierd nowadays, but it wasn't then. And every time I tell this story to someone, they act like my mother was some kind of bloodthirsty witch or something, making a little kid carry a machete around.
But that was then.