I guess you could say I had a 'moderate' JW childhood. My dad was an atheist who was raised protestant but ended up hating religion and my mom was fairly liberal for a JW. We secretly celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas and birthdays. Before my dad died, I even got to do a little trick-or-treating and when I was in 2nd grade I had a girlfriend. My dad had a good job, invested a lot in my education and encouraged me to study science and math until he died when I was seven.
From then on, things pretty much went to Hell. We moved to a crime-ridden rural area with unspeakably terrible schools and fundy Christians and racists for neighbors. I got into fights several times a week and was nearly raped and killed on several occasions. My mom went on welfare and encouraged me to do the same when I became an adult. I had some good JW friends, though, or so I thought at the time. We went through lots of dangerous adventures together, did some drugs and ended up forming a sort of hopeless love triangle where he was in love with me and I was in love with her, but none of it was mutual. They won't talk to me now, but I still like to annoy them from time to time by sending them unwanted letters, emails and gifts. I'd rather they hate me than just forget that I was ever alive.
Even so, sometimes I wonder if that extra bit of freedom I had as a child made it easier for me to leave the JWs later on. I thank my dad for impressing upon me a love of knowledge and liberty as well as an accompanying contempt for faith and stupidity.