Friday, August 01, 2008

Nostalgia strikes a note

Sometimes in life, nostalgia pushes a button and you find yourself looking back into the years gone by. How wonderful it is to have the memory of so many pleasant happenings in our life. Even the unpleasant memories bring back the longing for the yesteryears at times.

Today, a bunch of friends had been emailing about what we drink – ice water, tea (sometimes how, sometimes iced teas), and coffee. One friend I have the pleasure of knowing is a writer, although unpublished. I have the pleasure of being able to present some of her work on my web site. She got wound up in nostalgia today and sent us the link to one of her stories, Invitation to a Tea Party. As I reread this story, it brought back so many memories of when I was a child. There were not many girls around near enough for me to play with when I was young. But I still had my ‘tea parties’, if only with my dolls. I loved to set up my table on the front porch and enjoy my teatime. And, like Ruth, the author of the above story, our porch was also covered on one end with a beautiful, climbing wisteria bush that my Daddy’s mother planted there when the house was built. That wisteria bush is still living, although it has since been moved to the side of the house, since the front porch was taken in for another bedroom in later years.

Other memories are of the many nights my younger brother and I joined a cousin and a friend under one of the street lights on our road. We lived in a small country town, and, at the time, the roads were not paved. We would join each other for a round of marbles. Now, I was a tomboy in that respect! I loved to shoot marbles and I was good at it. We often played under a neighbor’s light or perhaps at my grandparents out the street. And, being kids, we played until we were made to come in the house.

I was also a tomboy when it came to playing basketball! We had a goal in our yard where we spent countless hours shooting at that hoop. Often times, I had rather play basketball than go eat! Many times Mother would have to tell this one young person they had to go home so I could come in for supper.

I am old enough to remember when our town got phones in our homes. I also remember sitting on the bank (which, at the time, seemed so much higher than it does now) in my parents front yard, watching the paving crew pave our road. The smell of the hot tar was terrible, but the pavement was a joy for those of us who loved to ride bikes. But, it was not so good when, during the summertime, the sun made the tar all soft, and it got between our toes and on our feet. Having to try and get it off was no easy chore.

Has nostalgia rose up within you lately?

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