Way Down South

Poet: Ken Jordan Poem: Way Down South            Edited by: Sparkle Jordan written: June/2014 Growing up way  down south  in Florida - was like a  fiesta - We would go to the beach, swim, run, and  play in  the white  sand - and soon as  we get home, It was  time  to raid  the  sugarcane  farm - Life was sweet, in the Sunshine State - Each day was  better than the day before - We  had good fun times - pushing our box cars, made from old veggie crate's - And Roller  Scooters,  made from scrap wood - We had roller skates, the metal one's, with metal wheels....... We made Kites, from  brown paper  bags, (using a little  flour,) and water for glue - Kids  would shoot  arrows  out  in the fields,  with bow's made from  bamboo -  We picked berry's from the Chinaberry  tree, to use as ammunition, in our homemade Pop-guns - We played hide and seek, and hopscotch, spinning top, and marbles  too - We even tried to DoubleDutch, just to flirt  with the girls - We had fun playing, to see who whistled the loudest, and  the one who won, would get a free icy cup, from snow cone man..... We would blow into our hands, making horn-like sounds, pretending that we played in  the band - And we would play, Rock, Paper, Scissors..... saying: "HotDog!" after each win - And just before dusk, we would run down the  dirt road, at the corner of  Tunis and Miller street, to hear  older boys, harmonize  do-wop songs, under the lamp light - Growing up in Florida, was the best time of my life - We had: No Internet, No iPhone, No iPad, No Tablet or Lap Top - Play Station, Wee, or XBox - We were  humble, and grateful  for  what we had - I remember  when gas stations, were called filling stations, where the attendant  came out, and cleaned your car windows, checked the  oil level, and put  air  in your tires  if  needed - When we got sick from  a  cold or fever - we rarely seen a doctor - Big Mama's old folk medicine remedy  was the  cure all  for unfavorable health -  My  Grandfather, was a business  man - he sold candy, cookies, and frozen cups - And rode a bicycle, through town, with  a  big basket on the handle bars - He picked up  clothes to  wash, and  iron  - He also, rented apartments, six that  he built on his own - Life was good way back then - I can still hear Peanut man, walking down the gravelled  road on Carver street in Pensacola, with his  back sack full of peanuts,..... yelling, "Peanuts!..." "Get your roasted  peanuts here!" So did watermelon man, ice cream man - milk man and Ice man - They all came through the neighbourhood, singing out what they had  to sell - Those  were the  days, that want come again, Way down south in Florida -