I'm older than the Big Three by about 8-9 years, and am so pale that I pretty much glow in the dark. You know those quizzes that show up online and in the magazines as we approach summer with the "...if you can answer 'yes' to at least four of these questions, you're at risk for skin cancer!"? I answer yes to all of them- at least one blistering sunburn in your life (HA. Try multiple blistering sunburns every summer for the first decade of my life; the misshapen freckles on under my eye are actually scars from getting a second sunburn before the peeling from the first one healed), pale skin and light hair and light eyes, anyone in the family diagnosed with skin cancer... I grew up in the mid Atlantic and used what passed for sunscreen (Coppertone Shade was SPF 6) when I was elementary school aged and was finally able to find SPF 15-20 by high school, but my peers were still trying to tan instead of protecting themselves. So, sunscreen was available and used some, but not to the level we see it today.
I've also been noticing the drop ins. My family does an occasional drop in, but it's usually preceded by a phone call ("Hey, we just finished a charity walk near your house; mind if we stop by and see the kids?") and my family can read a room. My BIL, on the other hand, loves to just appear on my doorstep, often at awkward times (6:10 on a worknight, which almost guarantees we've just sat down to eat, but then he'll say he doesn't want to join us and he plops down on the couch and turns on the TV and stays way past his welcome) and everyone in my husband's family just passes it off to his personality. The worst was when he came by with his crazy girlfriend on an evening when I was watching Mad Men DVDs on my own (hubby had a concert to work that evening) and proceeded to take the dog out for a walk and leave crazy girlfriend at the house with me. She got offended by the sexism in the show and complained to BIL about it after they left, and I got a lecture about not being appropriately welcoming to her. This is the same BIL that we agreed to have live with us for "...six months, max," who finally moved out thirteen months later because I needed to turn his room into a nursery and store the gifts I'd gotten at my baby shower at work.