I wrote Part 1 last week – reflections inspired by a poem sent to me by my sister.
I am writing this for my own memories and because I used to listen to my mother telling tales of the horse and buggy days. While my childhood does not seem significantly different, in fact it really is. Future generations, in fact today’s kids, might wonder at a house with one telephone, no dishwasher, no TV , no microwave etc.
We had no need for family rooms
or extra rooms to dine.
When meeting as a family
those two rooms would work out fine.
The school we attended was three blocks up the street. We would walk home for lunch. At some point my mother invited several kids to join us at noon time in the winter. The kids would bring sandwiches for their lunch and she would have hot soup for them. It was a very long walk home for them to go back and forth at lunch time.
We only had one TV set
and channels maybe two,
But always there was one of them
with something worth the view.
My family didn’t get a TV til I went off to college, which was probably a good thing. When my kids were small we did have a tiny black and white box in our play room.
Weekends were for family trips
or staying home to play.
We all did things together —
even go to church to pray.
My mother insisted we go to church every Sunday. When I was too old for the classes, I was told I would be in church even if I sat in the janitors room in the basement. I chose the balcony because I could day dream and would report on the bald heads in church every Sunday.
In the summer I sang with the junior choir. We sat in the front of the church with the adult choir right behind us. I must have been pretty fidgety as I have a distinct memory of members of the adult choir tapping me on the shoulder on occasion telling me to sit still.
When we did our weekend trips
depending on the weather,
no one stayed at home because
we liked to be together.
We really didn’t take many trip because we always went to the Cape in the summer. I do remember visiting my mother’s family in Erie Pa several times. The grand parents lived on a farm outside of town and one summer they bought two goats thinking my sister and I would enjoy them. They were named Abigail and Ezra and I didn’t like them at all. They always butted me.
We would play in a field near the house where the grass was so tall you could lie down and be hidden. One summer my mother’s sister for whom I was named was visiting from being a missionary in Mexico. We were fascinated by her ability to talk in Spanish. We would play a game with her where she would ask us to do something in Spanish and we would try and guess what she asked us to do. It was a pretty sneaky way to get us to set the table and other household chores.