Reminiscing
Sep. 16th, 2010 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ostarellaWas in a discussion about bratty kids on another forum and a bit of an off-shoot was what it was like when 'we' (forum members) were kids. So of course, it got me reminiscing.
The town I was born and raised in has never had more than 3700 people in it. Total farming community up until maybe 10 or 15 years ago - which meant everything was based on farmers' needs, schedules, etc. No one ever questioned farm kids being absent from school for a couple weeks in the spring and fall - planting and harvest. Stores opened early - farmers had to get their errands taken care of early so they could get back to work. Every grader schooler knew that at least once a year they would be taking a field trip to a farm - nobody ever thought of a museum! And nobody thought anything of the faint odor of manure when walking through stores.
The town consists of two hills and the valley between. A small 'crik' divides the town into north and south. Two main highways pass through it - 63 from the south, 16 going east and west. 63 is a block from our house and, because of the limestone base only 4-5 feet down, every truck going by makes the house shudder a bit. We always knew when one was coming up the hill, and would race down to the highway, pumping our fists in the air, hoping for a long blast from their horns.
The town was smaller, both in population and in physical size, when I was a kid. The high school, north of our house, was on the opposite end of town - and taking my time, I could walk there in twenty minutes. If you walked past the high school, you were in cornfields. To the south, five minutes took me to the municipal pool; 5-1/2 minutes was cornfield. To the west was the grade school and nearly half of the residences - and 10 minutes got you to cornfields. To the east about five blocks were the two cemeteries (public and Catholic) surrounded by - you guessed it! - cornfields. Almost a rite of passage was spending a couple weeks de-tasseling corn for the local farmers. I think I got around $1 an hour.
Until one got their driver's license (and again, the farm kids trumped us 'city slickers' in that they could get theirs a year earlier), there were three modes of transportation for kids: walk, bike, or horse. Horse 'pies' were as common as potholes - and considering the only paved streets were downtown, it was VERY common.
We had three big maple trees in front of the house and every fall, we'd start raking the leaves into piles beside the road. When the pile got to a certain size, every kid in the neighborhood headed for the "Little Store" across the highway - a mom and pop operation in a converted house - buying hot dogs and marshmallows. As soon as it started getting dark, Dad would set the leaves on fire and a couple dozen kids would be holding onto sticks with our treats stuck precariously on the end. Once the fire started dying down, it was time for kick the can. Our yard, being by far the largest, became the playground then. The only rule was we had to stay out of the gardens themselves. Eventually, parents would start calling their kids home - not via cell phone but just by standing in their doorways and yelling. One kid always got shit about his mom - she was always the first to start calling and of course, that was the cue for the rest of the moms.
My brother and I took swimming lessons at the city pool. We knew summer was close when Mom filled out the forms for that. Three times a week, Mom, my brother, and I would walk down to the pool in the morning for lessons (freezing to death the first couple weeks because it was an outdoor pool and unheated) and then we'd stop at the 'other' drive-in (across from the park) for lunch. (The A&W was the second drive-in but it was across town.) We'd always sit in the screened-in 'porch' to eat and watch the trucks rumble by on the highway.
The swimming pool and Little League were really the only two summer 'programs' for kids. If you weren't making use of those, you were on your own. And we certainly managed to fill our time. My dad had converted the old chicken coop into a playhouse for me, so that became the unofficial meeting place for the girls in the neighborhood - of which there were four! Don't ask me why so many of the neighbors only managed to have boys. But we had as much fun hanging blankets from the clothes line to make a fort - and the boys didn't mind playing with the girls then! Actually, there was very little sexism in our little world. Probably because without the girls, they wouldn't have enough for two football or baseball teams!
There was an alley running between our house and the neighbors, and since we were at the top of the hill, that became the sledding hill in the winter. Anybody driving down the street at the bottom knew they had to watch for flying kids! In the summer, we 'moved' two blocks down, where the alley there ran for four blocks and ended with a 90 degree turn at the end. There was nothing so thrilling as pedaling at top speed down those four blocks and sliding (hopefully) around that turn, skidding to a stop at the street. (Band-Aids must have made their fortune from our gang of hooligans!)
In back of our house, a row of arbor vitae marks the lot line. My brother and I could climb up into the trees at one end and go all the way across (close to 100 feet) without ever touching the ground. The entire east side was bordered by lilacs. In the winter, weighed down by snow, we could tunnel under the branches. So many snow ball battles were fought along there...
And we had an enclosed porch. With a wide porch swing. Used to drive my mom nuts when we'd get that thing swinging as if it were a regular outdoor swing! But there's nothing like a porch for reading when it's thundering and raining outside. The very definition of cozy.
So many memories - I'd bore everyone trying to list them all! Sure, there were trials and tribulations, nastiness and hurt feelings. That's part of growing up. But thinking about the good things more than balances it out. Makes me wish I could go back to that again. Makes me wish I'd thought twice about raising my boy in the city.
But it's nice to find a smile on my face, just thinking about my childhood.
The town I was born and raised in has never had more than 3700 people in it. Total farming community up until maybe 10 or 15 years ago - which meant everything was based on farmers' needs, schedules, etc. No one ever questioned farm kids being absent from school for a couple weeks in the spring and fall - planting and harvest. Stores opened early - farmers had to get their errands taken care of early so they could get back to work. Every grader schooler knew that at least once a year they would be taking a field trip to a farm - nobody ever thought of a museum! And nobody thought anything of the faint odor of manure when walking through stores.
The town consists of two hills and the valley between. A small 'crik' divides the town into north and south. Two main highways pass through it - 63 from the south, 16 going east and west. 63 is a block from our house and, because of the limestone base only 4-5 feet down, every truck going by makes the house shudder a bit. We always knew when one was coming up the hill, and would race down to the highway, pumping our fists in the air, hoping for a long blast from their horns.
The town was smaller, both in population and in physical size, when I was a kid. The high school, north of our house, was on the opposite end of town - and taking my time, I could walk there in twenty minutes. If you walked past the high school, you were in cornfields. To the south, five minutes took me to the municipal pool; 5-1/2 minutes was cornfield. To the west was the grade school and nearly half of the residences - and 10 minutes got you to cornfields. To the east about five blocks were the two cemeteries (public and Catholic) surrounded by - you guessed it! - cornfields. Almost a rite of passage was spending a couple weeks de-tasseling corn for the local farmers. I think I got around $1 an hour.
Until one got their driver's license (and again, the farm kids trumped us 'city slickers' in that they could get theirs a year earlier), there were three modes of transportation for kids: walk, bike, or horse. Horse 'pies' were as common as potholes - and considering the only paved streets were downtown, it was VERY common.
We had three big maple trees in front of the house and every fall, we'd start raking the leaves into piles beside the road. When the pile got to a certain size, every kid in the neighborhood headed for the "Little Store" across the highway - a mom and pop operation in a converted house - buying hot dogs and marshmallows. As soon as it started getting dark, Dad would set the leaves on fire and a couple dozen kids would be holding onto sticks with our treats stuck precariously on the end. Once the fire started dying down, it was time for kick the can. Our yard, being by far the largest, became the playground then. The only rule was we had to stay out of the gardens themselves. Eventually, parents would start calling their kids home - not via cell phone but just by standing in their doorways and yelling. One kid always got shit about his mom - she was always the first to start calling and of course, that was the cue for the rest of the moms.
My brother and I took swimming lessons at the city pool. We knew summer was close when Mom filled out the forms for that. Three times a week, Mom, my brother, and I would walk down to the pool in the morning for lessons (freezing to death the first couple weeks because it was an outdoor pool and unheated) and then we'd stop at the 'other' drive-in (across from the park) for lunch. (The A&W was the second drive-in but it was across town.) We'd always sit in the screened-in 'porch' to eat and watch the trucks rumble by on the highway.
The swimming pool and Little League were really the only two summer 'programs' for kids. If you weren't making use of those, you were on your own. And we certainly managed to fill our time. My dad had converted the old chicken coop into a playhouse for me, so that became the unofficial meeting place for the girls in the neighborhood - of which there were four! Don't ask me why so many of the neighbors only managed to have boys. But we had as much fun hanging blankets from the clothes line to make a fort - and the boys didn't mind playing with the girls then! Actually, there was very little sexism in our little world. Probably because without the girls, they wouldn't have enough for two football or baseball teams!
There was an alley running between our house and the neighbors, and since we were at the top of the hill, that became the sledding hill in the winter. Anybody driving down the street at the bottom knew they had to watch for flying kids! In the summer, we 'moved' two blocks down, where the alley there ran for four blocks and ended with a 90 degree turn at the end. There was nothing so thrilling as pedaling at top speed down those four blocks and sliding (hopefully) around that turn, skidding to a stop at the street. (Band-Aids must have made their fortune from our gang of hooligans!)
In back of our house, a row of arbor vitae marks the lot line. My brother and I could climb up into the trees at one end and go all the way across (close to 100 feet) without ever touching the ground. The entire east side was bordered by lilacs. In the winter, weighed down by snow, we could tunnel under the branches. So many snow ball battles were fought along there...
And we had an enclosed porch. With a wide porch swing. Used to drive my mom nuts when we'd get that thing swinging as if it were a regular outdoor swing! But there's nothing like a porch for reading when it's thundering and raining outside. The very definition of cozy.
So many memories - I'd bore everyone trying to list them all! Sure, there were trials and tribulations, nastiness and hurt feelings. That's part of growing up. But thinking about the good things more than balances it out. Makes me wish I could go back to that again. Makes me wish I'd thought twice about raising my boy in the city.
But it's nice to find a smile on my face, just thinking about my childhood.
