It was (and still is in a different way). I, too, lived near the train tracks and was always amused when my city cousins would visit and be overjoyed when (another damned) train would come by. I also remember that magical day when I came home from school and saw that there had been a derailment with box cars scattered all over (no one was hurt). Too cool for school!

Bonnie Willow wasn't named Willow when I met her thirty years ago, but she was and remains a fascinating woman and a gentle spirit (and was also, alas, my best friend's girlfriend). Bonnie writes about "accompanying my Dad on Saturday errands. My favorite place to go was the Hardware Store. I loved walking along the creaky wooden floorboards, admiring the barrels of shiny nails, reels of shiny chain & cables, bins of seeds of every kind. I would always stop at the seed bins and spend my time sifting through the various seed textures with my fingers. I loved those sensations. The gray-haired men wearing overalls who ran the store would always be standing around with toothpicks in their mouths, hoping to be called into action with some question. That hardware store is now a 20-story 4-star hotel with uniformed valets standing by to park the limos and Lincolns that drive up. ~ And . . . catching fireflies with all the kids of the neighborhood on summer evenings. My Dad would often be the leader, helping us punch holes in the lids of mayonnaise jars, showing us how to catch the fireflies, making sure we let them go before they died. Where have the thick swarms of fireflies gone? I haven't seen one in years, no matter what part of the country I've lived in."

Those barrels full of grain always smelled great, too. Bonnie and her husband run an incredibly fascinating store in Colorado - The Human Touch Galleries. Their web site has examples of the beautiful "contemporary American Fine Crafts" they purvey. And so what if it's a plug - it's my blog!

Steve Raker remembers "...Walking home on the last day of school, past three gas stations that fixed cars(there was no other kind), buying a pop for 10 cents out of a galvanized steel cooler filled with ice chunks, admiring the mechanics greasy skills. Home to a summer filled with backyards and forts and best friends and "I'm gonna be down by the creek, Mom."

That reminds me of lying in the afternoon sun on the wooden footbridge over the creek, reading a book and looking up occasionally to watch the dragonflies skim the water's surface. Steve also reminded me about the nearly continuous neighborhood baseball games that would only stop when it was too dark to see the ball; games where the bush was first base, the rock was second, third base was the maple sapling and home was the paper plate we fished out of the trash. There was a lot of arguing ("Safe!" "Out!" "Cheater!"), but I think that was half the fun. As well as practice for adult political debates.
8:32:29 PM    Comments?()