Once upon my time

Miles sometime separate us during these trying times. I want to go back to when all we feared was catching a nasty cold that although annoying, we managed to get through. Some chicken soup and cartoons maybe a day or two with no school and we were good to go. We had our childhood nasties like the chicken pox and the mumps but like most things back then the family doctor would stop by and get us feeling good leaving strict instructions for mom to follow. It seems we were just tougher once upon a time.

We played in the rain and the snow and mud puddles were there for one reason, to jump in. Many a day we would walk in the house looking like a frozen mud pie. Some of us brave souls played football in the street as soon as the ice melted enough to run on. We played in t-shirts that froze from sweat to ice in minutes. We ice skated on frozen ponds until the water formed on top telling us if we didn’t want to fall in, we better wait for the next freeze.

We played in the woods and all it had to offer. Hide and go seek is a whole different game when played in the forest. We explored the seasons each having their own special gift to give like white blankets of snow or lush meadows where wed catch fireflies in mason jars. Slow moving streams were perfect for our home made boats that wed watch disappear around a bend .Halloween meant creating a maze in the woods daring anyone to enter it as some of our older siblings would jump out sending the little ones running for home.

We made bikes out of spare parts we’d find in the dump or discarded in the woods. They were nothing to look at but we didn’t care because we knew eventually they would go over a cliff or into a pond while we tried to imitate evil Knievel. There was always something exciting and challenging to keep us occupied. We made sail boats for the streets by taking a piece of plywood and nailing on roller skates in every corner. A broom stick tied to another and an old sheet made the perfect sail. One at a time wed push it to the top of a hill and everyone except the rider pushed it as fast as they could until they couldn’t go any further. The rider sometimes caught some wind in the sail and sped ahead to the shouts and cheers of friends.

Staying inside on days to cold to go outside weren’t so bad. We would build things with Lincoln Logs or building blocks of all shapes and sizes. If you had an erector set countless hours could be spent building everything from cranes that worked to Ferris wheels. Comic books and Nancy drew mysteries captured our attention until mom asked if anybody wanted to bake cookies? We had a television set, but it was off limits unless mom or dad said it could be turned on. No color just black and white and usually not very clear until dad went up on the roof and adjusted the antenna. There were three channels, NBC, CBS and ABC. Saturday mornings meant our favorite shows, Sky King, Hop along Cassidy, The romper room, Captain kangaroo and more.

Presently stuck at home I take time to remember the good old days as well as the good days I have today. Talking to a friend or relative far away wondering as we all do what waits ahead for us? Times may have changed a lot for folks my age, but some things will always be the same. We have the love and support of family the trueness of friendship and the belief that as a nation we can overcome any adversaries if we work together for the greater good. One nation one purpose to see our country heal and move forward to a better tomorrow.

 

 

The old house

He had to duck his head now in the attic of his childhood home. When he was just a boy it was his bedroom as the house only had two. He stood hunched overlooking around the place where he feared shadow monsters and thunderstorms.  Pieces of string still attached to wooden beams lay still now but once were tied on to paper airplanes that blew in the breeze of an open window. His old bed still stood where it always had only the frame remained, but he remembered the comfort it gave him on cold winter nights or home from school with a fever. He could remember his mom climbing the creaking steps with a bowl of hot soup or a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

He spotted an old trunk covered with the dust of ages and made his way to it wondering what it may hold inside? Opening the trunk, he let out a sigh as he saw hundreds of photographs and notebook paper yellowed with age. This was his mom’s trunk he remembered it being in her bedroom and it seemed she was always adding something to it for safe keeping she would say. He sat down on the floor going through hundreds of black and white photos that opened the floodgates and stirred memories of days long gone.

The yellowed papers were stories he had written as a boy. His wild imagination was well known, and he liked nothing more than writing and giving the papers to his mom. You would have thought she would discard them after a bit but not his mom, she kept everything he and his sisters ever gave to her. It was almost dark outside when he closed the trunk and marked it with a piece of paper reading “Property of Mike” The movers would arrive tomorrow and everything not claimed by a family member would be carried off to a charity. Standing outside looking at his old family home brought a tear mixed with a smile as so many memories seemed to hit him all at once.

It was a good old house despite its size. It was filled with laughter and lessons learned, some sadness and loss but always love. Looking down he saw his young son looking at the house beside him. “Looks pretty small dad” he said, “where did you sleep? He pointed to a small octagon shaped window at the top of the house, “way up there” he pointed. “weren’t you scared up there” he asked?  ’NO’ he said, “it was where I was meant to be, and I wouldn’t have changed a single thing”

Mike

Fire works

The fireworks went off outside the home she lived in for sixty-two years now. Her memory took her back to forth of Julys past and the way he use to make such a big deal out of shooting off bottle rockets and black jack fire crackers to the delight of the children safely standing a distance away. She could still see his face as he lit one after the other running away from the fuse as fast as he could while the kids laughed and plugged their ears waiting for the big boom. She knew he went without so he could buy the fire works sometimes going without cigarettes for a week just so they would not be disappointed.

He was like that she thought to herself in all that he did. Family was everything and she loved him for that and many other reasons. Closing her eyes she could smell the hot dogs cooking over a small fire he made out of an old barrel. The kids helped him by gathering sticks from the field which he used as skewers. Each child roasted their own hot dog which they ate off their hand-picked sticks. Then came a real treat a bowel of marshmallows, two each and oh how they savored each bite.

He continued the fourth of July festivities well into his eighties. One of the older grandsons took over the duty of lighting the fire works and the old barrel was replaced with a fancy grill but the smile on his weathered face told her how happy he was. When he passed the kids and grandkids kept his tradition going never missing a year. She wiped her eyes and whispered she loved him to his picture she kept in a locket. Those kids would be here soon and she had to get a front row seat.

Mike