Once Upon a Time

We lived in a little white house with a sandy front yard.  Mama must have swept those hardwood floors ten times a day, with the four of us kids running in and out from making frog houses, climbing trees - there were so many trees, and nandina bushes in the back yard, a grapevine, hickory tree and a very large oak.  I remember all the dogwood trees, and the best for climbing was the Chinaberry tree because the center of the limbs made a cradle, and we loved climbing up and lounging there.

There were my two brothers, one sister (the other wasn't born until I was sixteen-years-old) and me, and we liked summer nights, catching lightning bugs, watching Shock Theater or watching the occasional lunar eclipse.  It wasn't all picturesque by a long shot.  I'll never forget the time my older brother tried to hang me with a garden hose. There was nothing passive aggressive about that one, for sure. But we had a good time, aside from that one incident. And there was always company, be it the neighbor kids or visiting cousins.  And we had everything we needed for a good time - sand in which to play, a cardboard box...talk about simple.  But it was nice.

Some things I remember most are watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News - every night without fail, The Ed Sullivan Show, and - lord help us all - Lawrence Welk. I never did warm up to that particular show, but my grandmother loved it.  She also like watching Peggy Mann and the Beverly Hillbillies.  And I remember party lines for the telephone...up until I was about seven years old.  Ours was two short rings.  Grandma's was three, Aunt Dot's was one long ring.  Didn't matter whose phone rang.  Grandma invariably picked up (she thought she was being slick) and listened in on every conversation.  THAT was why nothing got past Grandma.

There was building behind the house that I used as a library/classroom.  It was safe enough from the weather, and there were all those shelves..it must have been a storage shed at one time - and it was fun to escape to it with a couple of books.  My home away from home.

We lived about one fourth of a mile from the prison where I now work.  Sometimes, the escapees would run through our yard, officers (they were called guards, then) hot on their heels.  But we weren't afraid.  We grew up around it, so it was normal.  Once, Dad's German Shepherds cornered two in an old building on our property, in fact.  He went to investigate (with his .38 in hand) and marched the two refugees out, flagged down some guards in a state van that was cruising by, looking for them, and turned custody over to them.

Odd.  I never pictured myself living in this area all of my life, but none of us have strayed too far.  I live a four miles from the old house.  My brother Mike, Dad and Steve, when he was still with us, lived in a triangle from each other.  My older sister is in a nursing home - multiple sclerosis - and my baby sister is somewhere around..I can't keep up with that one.  But it hasn't been a bad place to be...there are all kinds of memories here, almost everywhere I look...good and bad, always mine..ours.

Not sure why I went back there tonight, barely scratched the surface...I guess when we reach a certain age (49, in my case) we look back at where we've been and where we are.  There was a time I would have left, or felt like I missed out by staying so close to what's familiar.  I guess this was just where I belong.  Where we belong.  And in spite of all the adventures that might have been missed, I can't say I regret it.