Tags

, , , , , , ,

Undoubtedly, the advantages of new technology help us all.

Through developments in medicine, communication, construction and education — we benefit.
While some in this world were born in these modern times — I feel lucky having experienced pre-internet.

Motivated by the threat of boredom, the practiced skillset required to find fun is still in motion. Imaginations were fine-tuned and road-tested with memories of the interconnectivity between activities the most lingering.

A bike — the most valuable component in the plan — was often a shared asset. The first with a friend Laura Hartley, her pedaling and me on the handlebars, singing “King of Nothing” by Seals & Crofts, over and over and over and over again — a first obsession.

A typical day — traveling for miles then stopping at Smiley’s Pizza in Heath, Ohio, for a sundae bar, then riding to her aunt Cindy’s apartment, running up to the hot attic and poring over vintage, bound Life magazines.

Burning inside forever includes the photographs contained in the Dec. 6, 1963, edition of the assassination of President Jon F. Kennedy. The motorcade through downtown Dallas left him shot twice, leaving most Americans in a silent despair — remembering where they were.

The still snapshots came with the shuttering sound of the camera in my mind, as eyes darted from one to the next, examining. Seeing the reaction of First Lady Jacqueline, all dressed up leaning over her bleeding husband, one of the first fearful ideas shattering through my innocent, rose-colored view of the world.

Another bike shared with a friend Susan Price, was a 10-speed with her standing on the pedals driving, while I sat holding on. We were older with our travels including tours by the homes of cute boys or teachers then stopping by Hoback Park, eating the nonpareils on chocolate purchased by the pound from Sears, Roebuck and Co.

The Sears where in third grade my Halloween drawing was one of the few chosen to be painted on one of the large windows. It was also the Sears where we purchased Brach’s malted milk eggs at Easter time and caramel-coated marshmallows wrapped in wax paper — my dad’s favorite; the Sears where my little sister’s best friend soared through on roller skates while being chased by the manager; and where community parades passed by in which my brother, Michael, was a common feature once pulling a rusty, red wagon decorated by American flags, containing our dog Scamper.

It was also the place where my momma dragged me to purchase my first bra when I was shocked to learn — following years of topless freedom, the last memory of which I stood on top of a doghouse, barefoot in pedal-pushers — the repulsion of the daily strapping of tight elastic around my chest. The reality stung, realizing my life had changed — forever.

“Oh , the humanity.”

While considering growing up in a less-advanced time a privilege, looking back sometimes brings sadness. These words written by Bill Lane and Roger Nichols are the first paragraph in my sister, Della’s, Heath High School yearbook.

“Good morning, yesterday
You wake up and time has slipped away
And suddenly it’s hard to find those memories you left behind
Remember, do you remember?”

Reading them always brings the same longing — for Sears, and the bikes, and my parents waiting for me to rush through the door to the smell of apple dumplings cooking on the stove with the sun dwindling into the imminent nightfall, exposing the hope the shimmering stars might bring.

While enjoying the new, I am grateful for those long-ago days at 101 Fieldpoint.

Thanks be to God; and that is all.