Saturday, June 03, 2006

Waxing Nostalgic

I was outside the other day and saw some kids playing baseball in their yards down the street. It took me back a few years as I remembered that these two particular houses were not here when we moved to the neighborhood in 1969 (they were built somewhere between 1975 and 79). Back then, they were the only two vacant lots on the block, and being side by side was an excellent place to play ball. I used to watch my two brothers and their friends play there almost every day. Kind of sad now, since Howard is gone and David has been disabled by strokes. But in my memories they were young and vigor, laughing and enjoying America's pasttime. I stood and watched for quite a while. And then this morning as I was leaving for the store I saw two young boys on their bikes in the middle of the street, obviously poised for a race. Yes, there was another kid further on down the block with a makeshift flag - one, two, three, go! I smiled. When I was there age I had this humongo bike, a boys pedal brake in the land of 3 speeds and banana seats. It was bigger than me, but I loved it. But here's the funny part - guys my brother's ages would come up and borrow it for races because it was faster than those fancy glow-in-the-dark purple speedsters. I used to sit on the curb and watch them race my bike down this very street. I finally received one of those fancy bikes for Christmas, the old one relegated to charity. I couldn't get the hang of the hand brakes (come to find out, my hands/wrists were too weak to squeeze them), so my bike riding days came to a close. It's funny how, more and more, things happen to bring back memories like these. What about you? Has anything touched off moments of nostalgia for you?

Posting early tonight. I'm tired, I'm going to try to go to bed a bit early. See you after work.

18 comments:

Brandy said...

Do you remember when the ice cream truck was a wonderous thing? And you'd run and get money from your parents? Now, I get nervous when the ice cream truck comes in our neighborhood. Thanks to television I now know all the things that could happen to my kids. (kidnapping, assault, etc.) So instead of giving them money and letting them run out by themselves, I go with them. They don't have to know why.
Try not to overwork yourself!

Lis said...

Lately smells seem to bring back memories the strongest. My mom made coffee the other day that smelled like the type my grandma used to make when we lived in the same city. Nice to get those brief flashes some times.

Toni Anderson said...

Smells do it for me too. There's some really sweet plastics that smell like the dolls I used to play with as a little girl (probably toxic) and the smell of tea--always reminds me of home :)

Have fun at work Eve!!

Diane said...

As I've only been here 2 years, there aren't a lot of memories to bring back. However, it is lovely to see kids unafraid to play out, whatever the time of day. And people don't lock their doors. It's a very social village.

Denise McDonald said...

I took the kids to Six Flags over Texas (an amusement park) Wed/Thur and they had photos up of the way it looked over the last 45 years - that was wild - I remember the skull island slide and the train that I rode w/ my Granddad when I was two (okay - I don't actually remmeber that as I have a picture of it) and all the stuff from when I was little

and when the kids watch Boomerang they show all the old cartoons from when I was little - it's all around...

Bailey Stewart said...

The ice cream truck - the Pied Piper of childhood.

Smells - Lux Soap means my maternal grandmother. Lemon drops was my paternal grandmother.

Six Flags! I haven't been there for years. When I finally scrapped by scrap books last year I went through them and kept things that meant something. There was a charactersure (sp?)of me from one of those youthful trips that I put in my new "memory" box.

catslady said...

Actually instead of my own old memories I've been hearing more from my mother who is 83 and likes to talk about the old days. Many stories I've heard before but I still find out new things.

anne frasier said...

how about when houses were heated with coal? wow. that was a toxic, pervasive odor that i still associate with winter and sledding.

Kelly (Lynn) Parra said...

A lovely memory, Eve. =D Sometimes when I look at old pictures, I think of when I was a child and smile. But I never want to go back. hehe. Maybe 10 years but not back to being little again. =)

Anonymous said...

Dennie: I remember skull island! I got separated from my family (I was probably 6-7yr) and I ended up on skull island & one of the workers had to take me to the "lost kids" area to find my mother. Oddly, I wasn't terrified.

And for me, the sound of cicadas (katy dids/locusts) chirring always brings back memories of long lazy summers spent in the East Texas piney woods where Granny lived, riding bikes literally all day, never showing up at the house except for meals. Now, I would NEVER allow my grandkids to go out without me being right there with them to keep them safe. Okay, now I feel really old...

Saskia Walker said...

I get nostalgic when I hear some music that takes me back to a different time in my life, something particularly of that time, that I maybe haven't heard in a while.

I read somewhere that nostalgia is one of the most creative emotions. Not sure if I agree with it entirely, but it made me think. So much of what we absorb from around us is stuff that is striking in some way, that we might revisit in fiction, consciously or subconsciously. The concept did make me feel less of an old fuddy duddy when I do get nostalgic, though! LOL

Anonymous said...

Hope you had a good, solid sleep for once or how has your sleep been lately?

I just posted for yesterday too. Didn't get around to it before.

I was trying to remember anything that I recently remembered but the mention of coal brought back the memory of the first house my parents ever owned. I can remember that we had something called a stoker for the furnace. What exactly it did, I'm not sure but I think it had something to do with not having to actually put the coal into the furnace manually. I can remember a few times when I actually saw the coal deliveries from the lane between the back of our houses and the ones on the next street over. I wonder if they still exist.

Oh, now I remember what else I was reminded of lately. I saw a bright yellow antique car in traffic the other day. It was long and seemed to be all body. But the amazing thing was that the windows in front had a divider in the middle and were only 10"-12" high. I was wondering how someone would even drive in city traffic with such limited vision.

But what it brought to mind was my uncle's 1929 Chevy which he bought around 1955 or so. It still looked a lot like an old Ford and had to be cranked. I still have a picture of us all dressed up to go to church on a Sunday. It was a great old car. I may have told you the story about how good it was starting in the winter when the "modern" cars wouldn't. Still remember how my uncle looked when he told us about that. It really was hilarious.

Anonymous said...

They say that smell is the sense that does bring back the most memories. I just know that I have a very hard time finding tomatoes that smell the way they did in the garden of the small block we lived in until we moved to Canada when I was 7--you know, that sunny tomato aroma? Can't beat or find it now.

Anonymous said...

Stacy, here in London, Canada, the ice-cream trucks turned into large tricycles with a cooler out front.

Anonymous said...

My dad's brother popped into town tonight, and I always love listening to their stories. Their memories aren't mine, but one day, they will be...

Brandy said...

I can say, write your parents stories down (or tape them). Now, I can't remember half the stories/memories my Mom used to tell me.

Bailey Stewart said...

Jeanne - yes, mother has began to tell stories a couple of years ago that I had never heard before. The stories she tells now can't be trusted as we know for sure none of them never happened (i.e. she talks about going to see Niagara Falls with Dad when they had never been there). But the stories she told a few years ago were true. I just wished she had begun sharing them before delusions entered her mind.

Anne - our house in Iowa had an old coal chute, but had been converted to gas/electric by the time we moved in there. The house had been owned by my cousins family before us and she has told me stories about the old coal furnace. It's odd, but the basement still had a coal(ish) smell to it.

Kelly - I don't want to go back to being a child either, but I'd like to go back to when things were simpler.

Loreth - sure you aren't. We believe you. *gg*

Bebo - when I was a child in Iowa I never showed up at the house except for meals either. It wasn't until I got to the heat of Texas that I never wanted to leave the house.

Stacy - They're still around in some places. A lot of neighborhoods have outlawed them because residents complained that the little tinny music was irritating. Idiots! For me, it's the smell of Old Spice and Swisher Sweet cigars that remind me of my father.

Saskia - that's an interesting way to think of it - I hadn't thought of it in that way. And you're not a fuddy duddy. *gg*

Ruby - sleep? I'm in that bit of sleep deprivation period, but it'll be okay. I'll catch up this week. I remember the story about the "old" car starting in the winter when the "new" ones wouldn't. Funny. And a lot of things don't smell the way they did when we were 7, nor do they taste the same. A couple of years ago I bought a package of snacks called Bugles (don't know if you have them in Canada). I hadn't had any since I was a child and I remembered how I liked them. Opened the package and took a bite, and they didn't taste the same as I remembered and, quite frankly, tasted horrible. I think I'll keep those memories back where they belong.

I like to listen to my mother's BIL and the stories he tells. I'll be passing them on too.

Bailey Stewart said...

Hey Brandy - we posted at the same time. Yes, I'm trying to write them down. I wish I had been old enough to think of writing my maternal grandmother's stories - I was almost 20 when she died, and we don't think of such thing's at that age.