My community was filled with people who would fill in if I needed help. “Block Parent” signs appeared in enough windows that I’d never need to go more than a few houses before finding one. If I got hurt at the park, someone would make sure I got the help I needed and got back to my parents. If I was not doing my schoolwork, my teacher was empowered to do something and my parents would back the teacher instead of me. If I was shoving another kid while my mom was preoccupied with my brother, another parent would step in my mom would graciously thank that parent instead of jumping all over them. My parents knew who my friends were and how to get in touch with their parents. I grew up as one of 30 grandkids on a farm with animals to tend, chores to do and grain to harvest with 16 aunts and uncles who parented me.