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In the small town that I grew up as a child, streets were neat and prim.
Trees lined up in rows of green statuesque figures. Children playing, riding bicycles, roller skating in the warm summer breeze. Somewhere you could hear the pounding of hammer and nails and the scent of apple pies baking sweetly in the air in a loving mother’s oven. Dinner was always served at 6pm.

Children dashing about coming out of white clapboard houses, laughing, shouting, eager to be outside and play their games of Red Rover, Red Rover...or Mother May I.

Boys wearing their coveralls and tennis shoes, while girls still wore crisp starched plaid cotton dresses and saddle oxford shoes. 

Sunny soaked heads, spiked with dripping water as they run through lawn sprinklers-soaking them in laughing ripples of glee… instead of watering the green well-kept lawn. Joyful laughter abounds and giggles fill the summer air as a sparrow chirped its melodic song.

In the little neighborhood where I grew up, with crab apple blossomed trees, our family’s red Studebaker parked  proudly in the driveway and well worn sidewalks from worn roller skating wheels, money was hard eared and scarce.

But a few pennies from grandma took us cheerfully down the street and around the corner to Findlay’s candy store where you could find one cent penny candy to your waiting lips desire. Mr. and Mrs. Findley, a cute little old couple kept it stored with black licorice wheels, kit-kats, candy cigarettes, root beer barrels and Teaberry gum and Chick-o-Sticks amongst so many others, too numerous to remember.

Sundays...

Sundays evenings were always a special treat. Mama and grandma wear their cotton dresses and aprons having just cleaned up after supper. Daddy always wore a short sleeved shirt, khaki pants and a cardigan sweater. We’d all prepare to settle in to watch our little black and white TV anxiously waiting for the 7pm Ed Sullivan’s Toast of The Town and then the very funny Amos and Andy show which followed an hour later.

Sunday night was also the night us kids went around the neighborhood trading our comic  books; like Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd or Superman, as aimless dogs wandered in the street, neatly shuttered houses were filled with fun and laughter and good cooking smells wafted hungrily in the evening air. Then afterwards we took our routine once a week Sunday night baths as we re-lived the day in happy sleepy thoughts.

 

written by anne p murray
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