I was a four-year old forty-five years ago. I was walking to my pre-school and back, a couple of blocks and a pretty big and busy street across daily.

The cars weren't a problem. Getting mobbed by primary school kids on my way back and getting beaten up was a problem. A bigger problem was when I told my parents the reason I was getting home later and later was because of the detours I was taking to avoid getting beaten up, and they arranged a meeting with me, the beaters-up and their parents and them -- and in the end, it was clearly my fault, I had never been beaten up, and these were all friendly kids, brought up all wholesome.

The past wasn't a better place, it just was a place where you didn't talk about being abused, no matter what.