Black and White
When my son was younger he often asked me to tell him stories of when I was a kid back in the black and white days. I had many to draw upon. Through my child’s eyes the olden days were all black and white for me they are in vivid color. My earliest memory is being about two years old all zipped up in my blue snow suit with the little yellow mittens strung around my neck. Walking was still new and oh so hard to do, with tights then socks wool sweaters wrapped like a mummy. The snow banks reached up to the sky, and I was bound to get to the top. Having gotten here my glory was short-lived for it’s at that moment the soft powder caved with me landing on my back looking up at the bright blue sky. Unable to move, partially entombed in the snow bank I decided there would be no rescue. Dad was at work, mom was with my new baby sister. My mind does not recall the rest of the story; obviously I figured out how to save myself. My adventurous spirit has led me atop many of steep banks; I have survived a thousand rescues; so many stories so little time. My large storehouse of photos supply images of the way we lived the people in it. In the rearview mirror I long for times when things were much less complicated. Not very often did my family buy fast food, once in a while we were treated to the Dog n Suds, a burger joint which we thoroughly enjoyed. The fried hot dogs, the frothy root beer in a mug and don’t forget the crinkle cut fries with brown gravy. Same goes for other outings, they were special. As youngsters our manners were impeccable. It never donned on my sisters or I to act out speak out of turn or heaven forbid cause a scene of any kind. We were products of the seen and not heard teachings.
My biggest pet peeve; in today’s times, in stores or restaurants many kids are crying screaming or throwing a fit for one thing or another. The parents like wise. Folks go to the store in their poorly fitting pj’s silly slippers uncombed hair and think it’s some sort of fashion statement. I suppose off handedly it is saying I don’t care about myself or anyone else. Just check out the Wal-Mart website there you will see graphic details of those of which I speak. My mom baked bread until I was 13 and canning was just something we did. Thank you notes were written often, a good old fashion letter was the norm. We went to school with a ton of respect and the dress code was enforced. It never hurt us one bit to take care in what we wore, no holes in your pants or underwear showing. Class photos detail the clean-cut straight shouldered days of yester year. All us baby boomers are now or headed towards being seniors, when we leave we are taking the black and white days with us. I wish my grandparents were here to supply me with some more stories. More historical events more time-honored traditions. I will pen the ones my mom, aunt and uncle still recall. I will be the story teller. Passing on the details of the simple lifestyle they lived. Glean from them lessons learned. My notes will be on my pc and I will cut and paste until I am happy with the results, and yes it does beat out pen and paper. So on some small level, I like progress. I do love that we can Skype to our loved ones or do business efficiently. I do like zip drives and compact discs. That said I am the first one to shut off the TV, make some tea and regale you in days gone by. Aware of my carbon footprint, continue to recycle reuse and renew. Work for sustainability, for our grandkids.
Embrace these times from a slower pace, smell the roses, and count my blessings.
Twenty five years later my son reminds me that I’ve told him my adventures several times over of my life from the black and white days