Archives for category: Uncategorized

Okie Girls

October 14, 2013 //

Last week, I went to the cabin of a friend along with two other friends, all of us Oklahoma born. While driving an hour out of town, we started talking about how beautiful the state is, one friend calling it underrated, with a diverse landscape that we appreciate. All of us are well-traveled, spanning the world, so it’s not like we haven’t seen the beauty of the Swiss Alps, the Mediterranean, the Colorado Rockies, the national parks, and on and on. We love it all. But we still feel tied to this land where we were born.

We had a stunningly beautiful afternoon to enjoy all that was around us…I love the rivers, creeks, scrub and blackjack oaks in rural Oklahoma. Fall hadn’t touched it yet, but it’s on the verge.

Our roots are important to us no matter how many times we pull them up. I recently traveled with two friends, one who lives in Tulsa, born in Portland. She will forever be an Oregon girl. Our other friend has lived in so many places, including Tulsa, on so many continents, that she has to put down her roots over and over. I don’t know how that feels…I can’t imagine. She adapts well. What I understand is that we do feel connected to our land, to our environment and we find peace in it. There is something that pulls at our hearts from the land we have inhabited, the land where we grew up. In it, we find our true selves, we’re stripped bare. For those who move around, it must be a different feeling, one of making those connections wherever you are at the time, mixed with memories of where you’ve been. Neither one is better, they are just a part of us.

I will share the places of the heart with my Okie girls, with my friends whose roots are elsewhere, whenever I can. We need the places, but we also need the people. Peace…

Tags home, land, Okie, Oklahoma

Categories Friends, Nature, Places, Reflections, Uncategorized

Oregon, oh Oregon!

October 6, 2013 //

I took a blogging break, not because I couldn’t get online or didn’t have things to show and tell, but because I was busy adventuring. There’s actually too much, but I have to treat you to the wonders of Oregon. This was my fourth trip to this state and I have to say that, while I’ll never leave Oklahoma, I hope to always come back here.

We were here for about 11 days this time and even the things I’d seen before at the same time of year looked different. First, we flew in over Mt Hood and it was covered with snow. Last year, it was dry.

And our first weekend on the coast was in record rains with high winds. From the safety of our place, we watched the stormy seas, venturing away from the fireplace only for better views. As visitors, you don’t have to worry about your property, only your own safety and preparedness, so we kept the fire lit and had flashlights and enjoyed snuggling in while the winds roared and the waves rolled higher and higher.

The beaches we saw after the storm were altered by the foam and debris.

and the waves were rough for a few days

But it soon relaxed and the earth restored itself to a refreshed beauty. We explored the towns along the coast with all their seaside charm…

…ate wonderful seafood…Dungeness crab, Oregon pink shrimp, shrimp and clam chowder, rock fish, halibut, and snapper…in nice restaurants and along the road…

I saw the creatures of the sea…the pelicans, gulls, and cormorants, the sea lions in rain and shine…

…and the harbor seals…

I walked early in the morning as the sun hit the sea…

…and captured sunsets…

There were beaches with sand dunes…

and beaches with driftwood…

…and treasures to find…

There were lighthouses…

…and signs that alert…

And I left the beach to hike up trails that led to mossy forests and flowing waterfalls, lush from the storms…

…and travelled the historic coastal highway along the Columbia River, looking over where Lewis & Clark paddled by, enjoying the falls along the way.

So I prepare to leave this beautiful state while the beaches, the forests, and Mt Hood are in my heart, begging me to return.

How can I refuse as long as I can walk the shores or climb the trails? Oregon will always be a special, magical place for me.

Tags Beaches, hiking, Oregon

Categories Friends, Nature, Photography, Reflections, Seasons, Travel, Uncategorized

Retirement…Year One!

September 27, 2013 //

I’ve officially been retired for one year and here are five things I can tell you…

1. There is not enough time to do all you want to do. It’s true that you will wonder how you ever found time to work full time before.

2. It’s good to have some goals. I made a list at first of things I needed to get done at home and checked them off so I knew I was getting things accomplished. Some still aren’t done, but at least I have the list.

3. Take your time when starting new things that require a commitment. I started a part time job after about seven months and a friend started a volunteer job. They are working out fine for both of us, but you need to make sure what ever you do is flexible or you won’t enjoy it as much. You get used to YOUR time.

4. Do anything that keeps you in touch with friends and family. Isn’t that why you retired?

5. Do something that you’ve always wanted to do. I started this blog, which I should have done years ago.

6. See…I told you five and I’m at six or more. Make retirement yours and make it count. Don’t sit around thinking about things to do…just do them. Make it fun, make it interesting, make it count.

I’m just getting started and there is so much more ahead. I’m on a trip right now, returning to where I started my retirement a year ago. Time to see what is ahead for year two!

Tags goals, retirement

Categories Friends, Reflections, Uncategorized

Return to Mah Jongg…

September 17, 2013 //

My family always played games…card games like Gin Rummy, Battle, I Doubt It, Go Fish, and a bunch of others along with any kind of solitaire we could find. We played board games when I was growing up…Clue, Monopoly, checkers, Chinese checkers, and all the other classics. Daddy played with us, but he and his friends played Gin Rummy. And they bet real dollars. My mother played Mah Jongg with four of her friends for 25 years. They met weekly for lunch, Mah Jongg, and whatever they talked about. We all knew the names of the tiles and had a little knowledge of how to play.

When I was a young mother, a bunch of us played. My mother got us started and we played regularly for several years until our kids’ activities and our own got too complicated. I hadn’t thought about it at all until one of my friends said she wanted to play again…it would be good for our brains. So four of us are playing…three from the old group and a novice.

It’s a funny game because so few people know what you’re even talking about. Although it’s actually like rummy, it has its own language, rules and great equipment. We get a kick out of it. We like the sound of the tiles clicking when you “shuffle” them by moving them around the table with both hands. We like the pretty tiles and the names of the suits…Bams, Cracks, Dots, Flowers, Winds, Dragons and Jokers. One of our group said, “I just like to say I’m going to play Mah Jongg.” How exotic.

There is a lot of history in games, whether card or board. Mah Jongg goes back to the ancient Chinese and came to America in the 1920s. It’s identified with Jewish women, who created some of the current rules we play by. Wherever it comes from, it’s fun and it really does make you concentrate and think hard. We haven’t gotten to the point where we play for actually money, as my sister-in-law does in Texas, where her group plays for a nickel a point. Right now we’re just having fun and feeling very proud when we say “Mah Jongg” for a winning hand.

Not much better than spending time with friends, having fun, and feeling a strange link with people who played the game oh so long ago. Makes you smile!

Tags board games, card games, Friends, games, Mah Jongg

Categories Entertainment, Friends, Memories, Reflections, Uncategorized

Down in the Swamps…with gators and other critters

September 9, 2013 //

It all started while talking to new friends about their life in Georgia on the Ogeechee River, which runs in their back yard, so to speak. She told me about fishing with a 16 foot gator coming up beside the boat. We laughed about the TV show, “Swamp People.” She said she knows those people, she is those people. We were out on their boat in the lowlands of Georgia, off the coast near Savannah, and I was watching the waters for alligators. Yikes!I’ve seen alligators on the golf course in Florida and was always careful if I hit a ball into the woods to just hit another one. I had no interest in searching for anything back there. But this was different. I don’t know why because an alligator is an alligator and all they want is to eat you no matter where you are.

After leaving Savannah, we were driving through rural Georgia, kind of cutting across the state, and saw Okefenokee Swamp on the map. I’ve heard of Okefenokee all my life. It was the site for all the Pogo cartoons and there were those movies where people sank in the quicksand back in the Okefenokee and it’s just fun to say it. In the area where we were was a privately owned park in the national wildlife refuge, so we just cut off the road and went there. Fearing an overly done theme park, we were delighted to find a small park that seemed part of the natural area. We were too late for the boat tour but signed on for the train back into the swamp. Why were we so obsessed with swamps all of a sudden? And here are the signs we were greeted with…

They had a viewing area with some alligators, turtles and river otters. I was happy to see the otters because I love these little guys and we didn’t see any wild ones. As cute as they are, I know they bite. They’d have to if they live in the swamps!

When we left the viewing area, waiting for the train, I turned and saw a big alligator on the sidewalk ahead of us. Really! I don’t know why they bothered to have any in the viewing pen because they were everywhere. The train tour took us on a quick ride through the close swamps and the guide’s talk did nothing but confirm to me that I wasn’t ever going to live in a swamp. I could imagine the Indians back in there laughing at the people trying to get them out. Come and get us, you fools!

There is an incredible beauty to the swamps…if you don’t think about all the things that can kill you. I was being attacked by Yellow Flies even with bug spray. I know anybody who lived in there knew some natural way to keep them away. If the flies don’t get you with disease, there are mosquitoes, quicksand, panthers, snakes, snapping turtles and the alligators to do the job. A swamp was becoming the most dangerous place I could think of…We were walking through a little village that showed houses and the way the people of the area when some children spotted a gator around the back of the building. I can’t believe I took pictures because I know they can jump and move at 35 mph. This guy just kept smiling bigger and bigger at me. There was a lady with a pole who seemed to know how to get around this area and she kept talking to the gators and chasing them away from the ridiculously innocent tourists…like us.

We decided that was close enough to the wildlife and, with great respect, headed towards the car. While crossing over the little bridge, I spotted this one coming towards me. They say you can tell the size of an alligator by the space between their eyes. 6″=6′ I didn’t stop to measure.

I kept walking and went to the side to take pictures. See the shoe in this shot? That’s how close we were. And the gator kept watching us very intently, probably hoping that lady with the pole wasn’t nearby.We turned for an ethereal view of the swamps before heading east once again.

We had already decided to go through Cajun country in southern Louisiana after we left New Orleans, and we decided to see if there was a swamp tour. There had to be because this is where “Swamp People” had been filmed. We really, REALLY, weren’t there because of that, but it seemed like we had to see the swamps down here after our tour in Georgia. We stayed in Houmas (pronouned HOMA) and looked online for a tour. I picked one that sounded good because it was a private area and no other boats would be there. I KNOW I’m a tourist, but I didn’t think it would be so good with lots of boats in the swamp. We were told to watch for their sign in the sugar cane. It was in the middle of a sugar cane plantation, it turns out.

This was a small operation with boats that reminded me of “The African Queen,” but looked high enough to maybe keep alligators out. My respect for them was growing each day.

Only two of us showed up that day…a bonus. Our Cajun guide had obviously hauled boatloads of tourists from all over the world into his beloved swamps and we were probably a relief to start the beautiful day. This was his place, although he told us you are never out of danger in a swamp. We’d already figured that out. It was just beautiful in this swamp that had not been hunted or fished in over 30 years. I don’t know what will happen to it when the elderly lady who owns it is gone, especially since she has no relatives. He told us the messy commercial strip where we had stayed the night before once looked just like this before they filled it in and concreted it over. Developers fear no critters…

Here are some views of this Louisiana swamp…

We learned about the palmettos that the Indians used to build huts and how the animals lived and the constant dangers to all. L’il John, our guide, showed us nests of 6 week and striped 3 week old baby alligators and we looked for their mothers nearby. One of the mothers showed up, swimming down the river at us at a steady, fast pace. The mothers protect their babies for a couple of years, while the fathers will just eat them.

There were beautiful birds…

and families of river raccoons, much smaller than our forest raccoons at home. They ran to the banks, knowing he would throw bread to them. After all, you do have to show the tourists some critters so they can get their money’s worth! But they were pretty cute…Soon after we started, the most frightening birds showed up, black-headed vultures. They followed us up and down the swamp, swooping in on us, hovering in branches overhead.

At a spot he called Buzzard’s Point, hundreds of them congregated and made the most heinous sounds as we floated by them. Creepy!!!The boats had buckets of meat for the alligators so you could see how they eat and how far up they jump – they can bring 2/3 of their bodies out of the water. I was talked into holding the pole with meat on the hook for a gator, who snapped it off with such force that pole sprang back at me. I just wanted to take pictures. Trust me, they’re not tame or trained. He showed us the hooks they use on television, which he doesn’t like to use to bring them in because making the gators pull on it hurts the gators’ insides. He prefers bringing them up and shooting them, but acknowledges it probably doesn’t make good television.

We headed down this way, looking for a 13 foot female with a large head who lived there, near the pump station that takes the water out of the cane field…we saw her den under the bank…

L’il John saw a 16 foot gator in this direction, but the big guy slunk back into the heavy growth back in there…

At the boundary of this protected area was a sign that was shot up, showing how much the locals want to hunt and fish this property.

Our guide was disappointed that the big gators hid from us today, but we hadn’t planned on all we saw and I later saw a stuffed 13′ gator that reassured me that the ones I had seen were just fine. They were all around us.

Here are the places where alligators live in the United States…

I’m not planning any camping trips in the swamps, but it was fun and educational to get back in there. I’m even recording an episode or two of “Gator Boys.” And the alligator season in Louisiana is open the month of September. There are a million alligators in Louisiana and another million in Florida (along with crocodiles) and no telling how many in the other states. Be careful out there!

Categories Nature, Photography, Places, Reflections, Travel, Uncategorized

Travel Souvenirs from the South

September 3, 2013 //

OK – I can’t be the only person who brings home a carload of souvenirs from a road trip…can I? It’s not like I can’t remember the place or person, but I do tend to forget after a time and the things I pick up along the trails of my life make me smile as I walk by them or dust them and shake up a memory from a wonderful experience. My home is packed with such memories and I’m old enough to know I’ll never be a minimalist in any way. So, here’s what I brought home from my travels through the South this past two weeks…think what you will.

First are the general, sometimes tacky, souvenirs: hats, t-shirts, magnets, lapel/hat pins and a few books, including a Cajun Little Red Riding Hood, “Petite Rouge,” because I have other Cajun children’s stories and love to read them out loud. You can’t help but sound a little Cajun…

I’ve collected the pins since I was in Vienna way back in the 1970s and saw a man with pins on his hat in European fashion. I used to be somewhat casual about it, but ended up with quite a few and now always look for them. I have them on a little bulletin board in my laundry room that I pass by every day.

The refrigerator magnets are a new deal and I have to promise to stop…

I just bought a hat and t-shirt in the town where my father was born because that’s all they had. I bought a ball cap in Savannah to wear out on the water and a cute painted t-shirt in Charleston because I liked the artist.

Then there’s the food category, which really can get out of hand in the South…

After all, I can’t get boiled peanuts and okra chips at home and who could pass up the Peach or Cherry cider and the Sweet Potato anything? And I wanted to see what was in red rice, so I bought a package, and then we went to Avery Island where they make Tabasco sauce and had to buy some of the new flavors. This is nothing compared to the souvenirs that didn’t make it home because they were eaten along the way…another blog. I did buy a cookbook from one restaurant to get the recipe for the best sweet potato soufflé I’ve ever eaten.

And we had to have things from the nature part of the trip, so I have seashells from the Katrina-wrecked beaches of the Gulf and puppets of animals from the National Parks we visited, Mammoth Cave and the Great Smokey Mountains.

Finally, there were the antiques and art I had to have. I’ve always liked to support local artists, especially when they have pieces that represent what I’ve come to love in their home. So that is why I came home with a ceramic mug and platter from potters in Fairhope, Alabama, a painting from the streets of the French Quarter in New Orleans, and antique tobacco basket from Thomasville, Georgia (what am I going to do with this huge piece even though I love it and got quite a deal on it) and an antique framed book plate by a well known artist of the Charleston Renaissance period (I learned about that). Each piece of art came with a story to make it even more special.

Maybe because I’ve owned a gift shop and know what it’s like to have people wander in and not buy anything, maybe because I’ve worked with artists for years and want them to be appreciated, maybe it’s the things my mother taught me, but I never, NEVER come home empty handed. The end result is that my home is a warehouse for some pretty exciting travels that I love to remember. I can only hope my children will smile and laugh a bit when they have to clean this stuff out when I’m gone! I can feel their eyes rolling…

Tags Cajun, food, memories, South, Southern food, souvenirs, travel

Categories Art, Books, Family, History, Memories, Nature, Places, Reflections, Travel, Uncategorized

My River Kinfolk

August 20, 2013 //

Knowing where your relatives came from is intriguing, at the very least. Maybe it will explain something, anything about us. All those questions…

The family member I know the most about is my father. I have pictures of him from baby to the end of his life. He was born in 1912, so way back there. I have a book someone did of Hamilton genealogy that goes back to Thomas Hamilton leaving Scotland for Maryland and then joining a group that moved to Kentucky.

The greatest source I have is a book, “The Sun Shines Bright,” written by my great-aunt, Sue Hamilton Jewell, a book of stories about the family in Uniontown, Kentucky in the late 19th century into the early 20th, including a few about my Daddy as a child.

My great-grandfather, grandfather, and father were all born in Uniontown. Here’s a photo I found that must be the Main Street that she wrote about, where even a 3-year old could be sent on errands.

Last week, I journeyed to Uniontown on the Ohio River, near Illinois and Indiana. I had no idea what I would find. Getting closer made me very emotional as I drove past fields of corn in rich agricultural west Kentucky, called the Upper South.

My great-grandfather was a grain dealer with an office in the warehouse on the river. My great-grandmother was from a plantation near New Orleans…another story to find. How did they meet? They had a great love story. Nine of their 12 children survived to adulthood, living a Tom Sawyer childhood along the river, “Our River,” as they called it.

…and later…

They had a staff of servants to help with the large home they finally moved into. Their land covered about half a block, with a diversity of neighbors on each side. There were 14 rooms with a 40 foot hallway the younger kids raced up and down on velocipedes pulling wagons. My great-grandfather was never bothered and must have been the kindest of gentlemen.

So, I drove to Uniontown with this info, along with the knowledge that the town had suffered greatly from the Ohio River floods of 1884, which brought Clara Barton to town for the first Red Cross relief effort as the river raged for weeks through the Ohio River Valley and all the river towns in its path. The 1937 flood left my widowed great-grandmother to be rescued from the second floor balcony by rowboat. The damage to the house and the remnants of the flood led to her death by pneumonia. This must be just a regular flood in this faint photo…

I knew the latest population was 1,000 and I found it on the map, but it was missing from my iPad map. How do you lose a town in an aerial shot? Scary. What would I find?

There was a town still. A levee keeps the flooding away, but the river has changed. I first looked across, imaging a shore where kids could swim across, barges and riverboats coming ’round the bend with my relatives waiting.

There was more than I expected actually. No old buildings, but a post office, VFW, cafe, two grocery markets and a marine store for the boaters who launched their boats on the river. I drove around enough to get a feel for where the house might have stood, picturing what I could from stories…the family eating fried chicken, Kentucky ham, homemade peach ice cream, and asparagus they grew in the yard. They gathered with their friends for burgoo, a community stew of whatever was brought. Such an isolated little town, a river town.

A young girl with a Kentucky drawl at Floyd’s Food Market gave me directions to the cemetery and I hurried before dark to a small cemetery surrounded by cornfields ready for harvest. Where to look? It was all very clean and well kept, divided into about four areas. In frustration, I parked and walked up the little hill. I remember Aunt Sue writing about the babies buried on the hill.

Suddenly, there it was…

…my great-grandparents. And the babies were beside them, touching little headstones for Annie, Nell G. and Merritt.

Behind them were my great-great grandmother and their oldest son, who I actually remember. Then I found two of their daughters. One died after the birth of her second child and her sister married her widower. All three of them, Verg and the two sisters he loved, all buried together. There were some others near, too. I looked and looked for any of my grandmother’s people because she grew up here, too. I didn’t find anyone…another story.

In the end, I stood by the gravestone and put my hand on it and my eyes were overflowing with tears. I thanked them for all the love they passed down. I thought of all the generations that have followed them…

One last look at the wide Ohio River, which is now kind of My River, too.

Then back to Floyd’s for a souvenir…

What did I find out? Lots more than I ever dreamed, but I’ll leave it with this…some of the best things about my family were born in a little town on the Ohio River. No flood will ever take that away. And now that river runs through me…

Tags family, Kentucky, Ohio River, Ohio River floods, Uniontown Kentucky

Categories Family, History, Memories, Places, Reflections, Travel, Uncategorized

Goin’ to Graceland

August 19, 2013 //

You gotta go to Graceland…right? Twice before I’ve been at the famous gates after it closed. This time, I had to go inside. By pure chance, I promise, it was the end of Elvis week in Memphis, the 36th anniversary of Elvis’ death. I still remember where I was when I heard the news…my husband, four kids and I were visiting a high school friend in Austin that day. The shocking news came over the radio. Another icon gone…

This time we started early, arriving just as the 5K Elvis run/walk ended. There were the gates…

and various Elvis fans and Elvis look-alikes…

You can’t walk up, so we bought our tickets, got our audio guides, and took the shuttle up the drive. This is how they control the never-ending stream of visitors. The house isn’t really huge, but the grounds are lovely. The neighborhood isn’t the best, but it fits. Elvis’s family reigned as the ones who came from so little to reach the top.

My audio guide didn’t work, which was ok with me. The effect of the crowd all listening to the guides creates a reverent quiet as you tour. Or, maybe they really were in that much awe.

The decor is perfect for a 22 year old, newly rich phenom who purchased a dream home for his Momma and Daddy. It speaks for itself…

Elvis was part of my growing up years, even if I wasn’t a rabid fan then or now. I love a lot of his songs, I love his story, but I didn’t swoon. But, I can’t help but love anyone who left such a legacy. Walking down the rows of gold and platinum records and albums…

…then a room with records to the high ceiling, I had to wonder how many more came after he died.

My favorite place is the wall outside where so many fans sign that they must have to clean it yearly to make room. It’s a lot of “Love ya, Elvis,” like yearbook signatures of your past.

How many generations are in this picture? I think at least four. Elvis lives on…

On the 36th anniversary of his death, I joined the mourners at his grave, reading the notes on arrangements from fan clubs around the world and tributes from individuals.

I saw one more Elvis wannabe…

…and completed the tour. I’ve been to Graceland…

Tags Elvis, Elvis Week, Graceland, Memphis

Categories Entertainment, Events, History, Memories, Music, Places, Reflections, Travel, Uncategorized

When you’re smiling…

August 15, 2013 //

I was standing in a grocery line today and noticed a man about my age in the next lane. My goodness, he looked grumpy. I realized it was merely something that seems to happen as you get older. I think our smiles start to sag along with everything else. And nothing ages you faster than to have that turned down mouth look. Then I could hear Louis Armstrong singing…

When you’re smilin’, keep on smilin’,
The whole world smiles with you.
And when you’re laughin’, oh when you’re laughin’
The sun comes shinin’ through.

But when you’re cryin’, you bring on the rain.
So stop your sighin’, be happy again.
Keep on smilin. Cause when you’re smilin’,
The whole world smiles with you.

In customer service, we are taught that a smile can be felt through the phone. Try it – it’s true. When we smile while we talk, it comes through in our voice. It’s a good thing to remember.

We’ve all heard all the smile benefits, so I’ll just stop here. And remind you to keep on smilin’. You can’t help but feel better when we think of something that makes us smile and we all have something to smile about.

Categories Reflections, Uncategorized

The Perils of Childhood

August 9, 2013 //

It’s been a long time since Aunt Polly said to Tom Sawyer, “Well, go ‘long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I’ll tan you.” I was thinking of the changes in the freedom children used to have and how cautious parents must be today. What I realized is that there always have been perils for children and there always will be.

A friend of mine says his grandfather remembered running away from an orphanage in Texas with his older brother at the fence telling him to keep running. He was 6 years old and was on his own from then on. That was in the late 19th century and there were many dangers for a young child, from natural dangers to human ones, but he survived to a ripe old age.

My grandparents were raised in small towns or on farms where they had the run of the place. My grandfather wondered around town because everyone knew who he was and watched out for him. I know parents have always worried about what would happen to their children, but they used to be able to let them stretch their wings and explore.

My father spent many years in the same small town his parents grew up in and played with his brother and sister and cousins. The Ohio River ran right by the town, but none of them ever drowned in it. There were few cars, but I guess you had to watch out for buggies and horses, too. They probably knew who the creepy people in town were and stayed away from them. There have been sick minds since man was created, so we didn’t invent perverted behavior in this century. I can picture these kids running around that small town with all the freedom in the world, as long as they didn’t get into trouble, which meant damaging property or bothering someone.

In 1909, Bud and Temple Abernathy, the Abernathy Boys, rode horses alone from Frederick, Oklahoma (barely a state then) to Santa Fe, New Mexico. They were nine and five years old. Alone! Of course, their father was “Catch-’em-alive Jack” Abernathy, a US Marshall whose reputation as a marshall, a hunter and a cowboy helped save them from Indians and crooks they met along the way. Still, they had to cross a lot of land with the dangers of wild animals and the terrain. After that trip, they rode from Frederick to New York City and drove a car back (when there was only 150 miles of highway in the entire country). They did it alone and they were only ten and six! Even then, that was quite a big deal and they became national celebrities. Can you imagine any kids that age being able to do something like that today? Kids should read “Bud & Me” to at least be able to know that those kind of experiences once existed.

I grew up in the city, in the suburbs. We walked everywhere and I don’t remember too many restrictions. We had to watch for cars, but we were allowed to explore and walk to our friends’ houses blocks away. The biggest dangers were falling off your bike (we had no helmets) or jumping out of a tree. I’m sure there were cautions from our mothers, but we just went out and did what we did. If there was an accident, we went home and our mothers put a bandaid or iodine on it. Most, maybe all, of my friends’ mothers were at home and the neighbors all knew who we were, so there was a safety in that. As we got older, we moved where there was a creek behind the neighbors’ houses and we played in that, especially when the water was rising. We played on construction sites, we played with matches, we played after dark and we snuck out to play in the moonlight. We got scratched and banged up from time to time, but that was just part of it.

When I was a teenager, we drove everywhere. There were no cell phones or GPS, so our parents just had to trust us to get home safely. We explored all parts of the city and did crazy stupid things. We weren’t always smart, but we learned how to use our freedom the best we could. I’m sure my parents worried some, but they let us experience what was out there and find our own limits. We were lucky in that drugs weren’t common until I was in college and the worst that happened was that kids got into their parents liquor or drank too many beers.

By the time my children were growing up, it was a little scarier. There were so many more cars and we had television to tell us of kidnappings and other evil things. Some mothers were working and there wasn’t always the safety of knowing that there were other moms to let you know what was going on. We had creeks by both of the houses my kids grew up in and they played around them. I didn’t know until they were much older that they used to follow the creek all the way to the busy street and under the street to the other side. There were snakes and critters and all kinds of exciting things in the creek, but it didn’t bother me. That was part of childhood. I did caution them when we had a big rain and the creek rose and could have carried them away, but I’m sure they watched that rushing water with the same fascination I did. They also were free to walk around the neighborhood as long as I knew where they were headed. There were a lot of other kids around.

When my children were teens, insurance rates were rising for their age group for drivers, drugs were more common and alcohol was a bigger factor. City-wide curfews were coming into being and kids had to move from place to place to gather when they were out. The fun was getting harder to find.

Now, I’ve watched my grandkids grow up playing mostly inside with television and video games. They ride their bikes, but not with the same freedoms we enjoyed when we could ride for miles alone. There is the fear of having the bikes stolen, the heavier traffic, the crazies we all know are out there. It’s just not as safe as it used to be. They don’t ride to the park for a quick game of ball or to climb rocks or explore creeks or make new friends in random places. They have helmets and padding and cell phones to check in and every protection there can be. It’s dangerous out there.

Today, it’s all organized for kids with parents swarming over everything they do. I’m not saying they’re over-protected, because I’m well aware of the dangers. I just don’t know how far we have come. We’ve conquered many of the childhood diseases that killed so many in the past, but we’ve taken away the ability to explore and learn what you can do by yourself. There’s a certain pride in knowing that you’re able to walk to the store by yourself or ride your bike to a far away place and return without anyone helping you. You gain confidence in your own abilities and skills.

This weekend, I watched a news story on the new plague of heroin users among our teens across the country. Heroin in the suburbs. What can you say?

Sigh…I guess we can’t go backwards. I wish I had answers other than turning back the clock. How can we find ways to let our kids be kids and explore this world safely? Something to think about…

Tags Ben & Me, children's freedom, growing up, kids, riding bikes, the Abernathy Boys, Tom Sawyer

Categories Family, Memories, Reflections, Uncategorized

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