Sunday 1950

Sunday 1950.
I would wake up with one thing on my mind. I had to write something for English class. It was the standard weekend homework assignment. I don’t recall if there was a topic given occasionally. I just recall “write something”. We were given two grades. The top grade was for content, the bottom for those nit-picky things english teachers worry about: spelling, grammar, paragraphs etc. I remember this because I recently came across one of my weekend themes.
It was written one Sunday afternoon about sitting in my room, pencil in hand and trying to think what I would write about. I turned down an invitation for tea with my mother. I did nothing, according to my writing but write about doing nothing and somehow the afternoon turned into dinner time. I put a period at the end and turned it in Monday morning. The top grade was an A. The bottom grade wasn’t but then it never was. No one is perfect.
In those days I didn’t have TV, or an i-phone. I didn’t text … go to the movies…. have a date….not even a typewriter to write with, just a pencil, though I might have had to rewrite it in ink.
What is it kids do today on Sunday afternoons? It was a different world back then. How boring it would be for a teen today, but I don’t recall being bored, just annoyed that I had to ruin a weekend writing something. Needless to say writing it on Friday never entered my mind. Never do it ahead of time was my mantra….
Sunday 2015…. homework… write something for Tuesday. We live on a lake. This past month the fog has come in so we can only see the docks of the people on either side of us, the tall trees on either side of our dock, an occasional parade of ducks. The houses on the hills across are gone. Shangri-La created every morning. It is quiet, but then I have not put on my hearing aids yet so, of course it is quiet. Sometimes I can hear an eagle screeching at its mate on the trees near by.
Is this any different from 1950…. Now I have a life time of memories to write about. Many I have covered already. I will think of an event… oops already wrote that. You would think after all these years there would be more stories but today it is the fog, the quietness that
seems to be on my mind , like that Sunday 65 years ago when I sat and stared out the window and watched the afternoon fade away.
(see Nov. 1, 2011 —

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