My childhood started some 47 years ago in a now fenced in and almost forgotten hospital. Somewhere between those walls and where I am today lies a labyrinth that we call life. No matter what stage we are at in this journey, we are sure to have ups and downs, laughter and pain, and even the hardest of hopeless days are ended with the dreams of night that give wings to hope. Of all the stages in life’s journey, the most magical is childhood. Simple things become captivating, and the ordinary is a mere disguise for the wonders of the world. These are just a few simple things that I recall as pleasures of my childhood.My mother was the storybook mom. She could cook, sew, and I am sure in an all out duel, could clean June Cleaver’s plow. One thing she did very well was shop. If there was a bargain to be found, she would find it. A bargain that always filled my older brother’s and my heart with cheer was an ice cold, vine ripened watermelon. Nowadays smart moms carve out a slice for each kid and send them to some safe haven of carpet-less fashion and let them have at it. For my brother and me, it was a lesson in civility; we had half a melon that we had to share. And as we grew so did the family. Once my first sister was old enough to earn her right at the round table, a more coordinated attack on the melon was in order. There are 2 types of watermelon connoisseurs. Those patient partakers de-seed the melon and enjoy remaining melon without the hassles of those pesky seeds. Others, like me, tend to cut out the heart much to the disdain of the aforementioned. However you slice it, it was and still is one of my much enjoyed pleasures of childhood.
Even kids have their parts of life that they must deal with. School is one of the first major milestones (sure there is potty training but I am not taking a picture of a toilet even if I can Photoshop it). When it was time to get ready to get our pencils and big chief writing tablet, we always made a stop at my uncle’s store. There we got to choose our own cigar box for our pencils and assorted supplies. Taking our supplies to school in a yellow King Edward box made you feel like a 3rd grade renegade. Now at 47, my Uncle Harold has passed, and his store is gone, but an empty cigar box takes me back to a time when life was good.
As a kid I had all my needs provided for, but my wants (i.e. latest issue of cycle world with my heroes Bob Hannah or Roger DeCosta) were up to me to provide for. To fund my picturesque training manual for being America’s next great young motocrosser, I mowed yards. But I found scavenging the neighborhood for coke bottles was a fast way to get some change for a coke of my own. I dreamed of being everything from a racer, a runner, and perhaps even the next Jacques Cousteau. I never dreamed of being a fire fighter and now, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But the key to life was actually locked into all those imaginations of a child; anything was a possibility.
Another favorite activity of childhood was the gathering of the mother-lode, or as capitalist America likes to call it, Halloween. All the young actors and actresses get dressed, and they are ready for their roles. Little Princesses grace the streets, and Mothers’ Little Demons now actually look the part. And all have 1 quest in mind, getting all the candy they can. There are many treats I recall as a child. I remember the wax treats that had juice inside, cracker jacks, and sweat and sours. I don’t have a clue what my favorite was then, but hands down now it is gummy bears. They remind how fun it is to enjoy something quite simple, and many times for under a buck and a half.
Another wonderful treat was to visit my Grand daddy and Granny in the country. We climbed up the Big Red Hill like it was Mount Everest, and we ran and chased fire flies, and cooled down with homemade ice cream. I can remember the sound of the ice cream maker turning in the barrel grating against the ice, and how quickly you tired cranking on it. But it was well worth it. It was pure pleasure. Time changes things. The Big Red Hill seems more like a red clay embankment for a road, and I can’t think of when was the last time I saw a fire fly. Now we are so busy, we usually duck into the local Dairy Queen for a treat, but it still reminds me of those fun filled days in the country.
These days I live and work in a very much adult world. All around us is pain and suffering, heartache and loss. But there is still much amazement and wonder to discover. One reason I love to spend the day with my daughter is she knows how to just enjoy the moment. It seems much of life we spend trying to grow up, then keep up with all the other grown ups. Sometimes we should step away from the rat race and remember how to view life and live life as a child.
