Have you ever just stopped and looked around or listen to the old stories of people that share what used to be? As I get younger, I often think about the young newspaper boy getting up early in the morning to make his newspaper route, building a community of neighbors watching out for each other and getting to know one another, being able to go to bed with the windows of the home open as you sleep, and the doors to your car and home unlocked. These were times of beauty, when you didn’t have to worry about uninvited guest walking through your door, young boys trying to earn a little spending money with a newspaper stand or bike, and people simply helping each other on there street. There was no fear or shame, just good ole conversation with a few laughs.
When I was a child and young adult, my family would gather together in one home for a meal. We would sit on the front porch swing that hung from the ceiling of the porch with our cousins or roll down the little hill of the front yard. My grandmother or aunt would drop the laundry down the laundry shoot from upstairs or in the kitchen and land in the basement where the laundry was done. We all would sit around the table to have our meals, talk about the day, and sometimes one of us kids would get into trouble. We were never allowed to talk back to our elders… There was a large paddle with our names on it!
No matter where we all met up, it was always at one house, and the same activities would take place. One of my uncles loved to get us kids in the kitchen and teach us how to cook different foods, or we all would sit in the backyard taking our turn to turn the handle on the manual ice cream maker… Oh, these were the days!! A lot of laughter shared!
My father was very much of an outdoors man, and it was bred into my brother and I as we were growing up. We didn’t take trips that only lasted a weekend or a holiday that lasted a week or two. We were gone at least a month at a time, traveling coast-to-coast, border-to-border and sometimes visiting Mexico and Canada.
We camped in Death Valley a month at a time and learned how to survive in the heat to getting stuck up in the mountains in four to five foot of snow, and burning blankets to make smoke signals to get help. We always travel in a small station wagon with 3 adults, seven children, and two dogs. It was a blast!!
When I sit on the front porch early morning or take a long drive these days, I am reminded of the joys that were share when I was growing up. Yes, there are material items and situations that makes us feel nostalgic, but more than anything it is more of what we did as a family. When my kids and grand-kids all gather today, I am reminded of the past, but more so in what is ahead for the future. Family is so important… Stories of the past can enrich the mind of the younger generations. And I call that a blessing.
littleriverflow 