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.
Steve Beckham said:
Ahhh, nostalgia. I wonder sometimes if my kids, all grown up and adulting now, have memories as idyllic as mine. I think the world was a slower, simpler, gentler place when we were making our way through childhood and adolescence. But then maybe my lenses are fogged by time. In the warm glow of all the fun memories there are a few cold, dark places—duck and cover drills under the cloud of nuclear holocaust. But here we are in the fascinating now poised on the precipice of what’s next. Another lovely piece, Carolyn.
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Steve – thank you for the positive onward view. As always ❤️
Phil said:
Such fond memories of yesteryears…thank you for sharing, dear Carolyn. At the moment of this writing, thanks to you, I’m listening to the classic “The Times Of Your Life” (Paul Anka, 1975). Wishing for you a wonderful day, and tomorrow ❤️
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Thank you, Phil – that song is so sad, but great ❤️ Enjoy your weekend with your camera!
Phil said:
Thank you, Carolyn 🙏🏻😊
jboelhower said:
I loved this post! I have a written a few of these myself and these reflections actually remind me to make life memorable for my own children. Even with technology childhood can be a wonderful time. As you write about your friend Laura and the bike and singing, it is as reminder that life is about the people we share it with. The things we actually do, how we live makes the joy we experience. The verse from the poem is a powerful statement, because even as we remember the past, we can’t live there… Great, great post!
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Thank you for reading and your kind words. I love this comment ❤️!
steveknife said:
Wonderful post! I too grew up in the Midwest and enjoyed riding my red bicycle all around the neighborhood with my friend Kevin. Baseball all day and nights of tag and something called SPUD until the street lights came on…fun times I never thought would end
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
The best fun ever! Thank you, Steve.
Della said:
Oh my! 🥹! Tears of joy and sadness. I love this story! Thank God for your memory because I forgot these things but it surely feels wonderful to bask in them. Love you 😘
Della Droddy Family Life Specialist LCPS
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Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
We had some fun!
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Love you too ❤️
Stacey C. Johnson said:
So much to love in this piece, Carolyn. I nod with particular recognition at the dark day of first bra shopping “following years of topless freedom.” Oh, the humanity! : )
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Stacey – thank you for your support ❤️
Tokeloshe. said:
Beautifully written ♥
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Thank you ❤️
Jeff Cann said:
I read this a couple of hours ago and it stayed with me, rolling around in my brain. From the picture you paint, I envisioned a late fifties setting. But then I began to wonder if it just struck me as an older story because of the location. Jeff googles Heath Ohio and King of Nothing. Wow, Small town, 1974! We’re probably about the same age. I grew up in a suburb of DC and we really lacked the ability to ride bikes to a corner store. When I was old enough to bike to the busy shopping area four miles from my house (13 or 14), my corner store was 7-11. This story reinforces the decision we made to move to a small town when my kids we born. They were able to enjoy an ‘age of innocence’ freedom that they would have never found living in the DC area. See how introspective this story made me? I really enjoyed this piece.
Carolyn Kaiser Harmon said:
Thank you so much, Jeff, for the thoughtful post. So lucky to have these experiences.