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How Were Your Times Growing Up?

carter

I'll Lock Up
Messages
5,921
Location
Corsicana, TX
I remember growing up on an extended-family farm in Virginia.
The farmhouse consisted of a long living room, a dining room and a kitchen downstairs. The living room was separated from the other two rooms by a long hallway that ran from one side or the house to the other. There were screen doors at both ends. Upstairs there were three bedrooms and one bath. My Grandparents slept in two twin beds above the living room. My parents slept across the hallway in a double bed. Someimes my dad would sleepwalk on the roof over the veranda by climbing out the bedroom window. My mom and grandparents were very careful getting him back inside. All four kids slept in one bedroom. It must have been large because we each had our own bed.
I remember the veranda that ran completely along two sides of the house. There was always someone on the veranda. The side overlooking a field that was alternately cprn, hay, or pasture depending on the year, ws shaded by two oak trees that we would climb and play beneath.
I remember washing daily but only bathing once a week unless we were really stinky.
I remember following my grandfather one day as he went out on the tractor. I was three years old. My mom was a wreck when I showed up a few hours later after circling the farm by climbing thru two gates and crossing three fields. I had two baths that week.
I remember My granddad, we called him Packy, butchering hogs in thefall with some neighboring farmers. The smokehouse outside the kitchen always had salt-cured hams hanging fromthe rafters above the second floor. I still love the taste of salt-cured Virginia ham.
I remember carrying irrigation pipe with my brother in the summer so we could irrigate the corn. At noon, my grandmother or my mom would bring us lunch in the fields.
I remember riding on the tractor with my grandfather when he mowed, raked, or baled hay. When we were older, my brother and I would load the hay wagon. One would pitch the bales on the wagon and the other would stack them. One time my brother was stacking on a neighbor's wagon. The bed wasn't secure and tilted when the load on the rear was too heavy. We had to reload and stack the entire load. What a mess.
I remember going out in the evening with my grandfather and the dogs to bring the cows in for milking.
I remember how sweet it was to lie on my back in the sun and chew on a blade of grass.
I remember fishing and swimming in the river. No swimming pools for us.
I remember watching water spiders moving across the surface of the cool water in the springhouse.
I remember opening the screen door on the veranda because my hands and the rear pockets of my bib overalls were full of eggs from the henhouse. All the eggs in my pockets broke when the screen door hit me in the rear. Talk about egg on your...My grandmother thought this was hilarious. I thought it an affront to my dignity.
I remember climbing cherry trees in the orchard and eating more than I put in my bucket. I still love cherry pie.
I can still taste unbelieveably sweet grepes from our grapevines.
I rtemember my grandmother serving rabbit for dinner. The kids wouldn't eat them because we had raised them in hutches by the henhouse.
I remember going hunting in our wood across the road with my dad and brother. We always had a thermos of coffee and hershey bars with almonds. We'd sit under a tree and be very quiet hoping a squirrel would show up and be invited to dinner. The only squirrel I can remember my dad shooting was one whose tail was sticking out a hole in a tree. The hole was too high to reach. What a pain in the butt.
I remember shearing sheep in the spring.
I remember falling in cow manure one spring when the men were loading the spreader. My dad told me to go in the house and clean up. I went inside and upstairs wher I washed my hands and face, dried/wiped off and headed back to the barn. My mom caught me in the yard and lead me back in for a bath. Then I had to take a nap. What a waste of a perfectly fine afternoon.
I lremember my aunt and uncle living in a trailer on the farm after he came home from the Korean War.
I remember incredible mouth-watering smells from the kitchen every day and ten people agthering around a big dining room table at breakfast and dinner.
I remember the smell of clothes dried on a clothesline in the sun and breezes of the day.
I remember milk with butter floating on top. I remember churning butter.
I remember our first television. It was deeper and taller than it was wide. It was made by Philco.
The first TV show I remember is the Grand Old Opry.
I remember my grandfather's White Owl Cigars. He died of cancer but no one knew he had it.
I remember two Border Collies named Maggie and Jiggs. They had to be put down when it was discovered that they were killing sheep.
I remember being outside from dawn 'til dusk and coming in from whatever adventure we'd been having when summoned by my dad's whistle.
I remember always having dogs to roam around with.
I remember being browned by the sun and worn out at the end of each day.
I remember fireflies.
I remember when my dad got a job in a factory and we moved off the farm.
Although we spent a lot of time at the farm until my grandparents sold it and moved to a house my grandfather had built, no memories of my life are any stronger or clearer than those of the first nine years of my life.
The world wasn't perfect but what did we know. We were just kids.
 

pigeon toe

One Too Many
Messages
1,328
Location
los angeles, ca
I was born in 1987, not *too* long ago!

One of my first memories is lying on my back in a playpen looking at the ceiling of my mother's NYC office that she ran her clothing company out of. I don't remember much of NYC because I think my parent's only lived there a year before moving to Long Beach, Long Island.

Long Beach wasn't the nicest neighborhood at the time, my friend's were the kids of an ex-con and there was a crackhouse on our block! But I remember how much fun it was to ride on the back of my dad's bike down the boardwalk -- all of the teenagers in neon shorts, the smell of pizza and the sound of the arcades. At night they would have movies sometimes on the beach and hand out glowsticks to wear. I also won a little beauty pagaent when I was 2 or 3. I still have the trophy. My mom would take me to an antique shop that was run by a dirty old woman in a muumuu that my mom called the "peepee lady" because everything smelled like pee! But we would go there all the time, my mom always on the hunt for a great antique. Maybe that's where my love for old things originated.

We later moved to Garden City, the same town as my grandma, and I would spend a lot of time with her watching Oprah and Sally Jesse Raphael. I was also completely osbessed with Beverly Hills 90210 even though I was only 6, and my aunt (who was in her 20's) would let me watch 90210 and Melrose Place when she was babysitting even though I wasn't supposed to. I was also desperately in love with Michael Jackson, and the first dream I can ever remember having was about him. I would spend the summer evenings outside with friends until late at night, playing flashlight tag, catching fireflies or running through sprinklers on really hot nights. I would spend summer days with my grandma at the movie theatre or picking cicada shells off of the trees.

When I moved to California, the best, most innocent part of my childhood was over. I really hated moving to California and things became tough for me. So I pretty much only consider when I lived in New York as my real childhood.
 

Fast

Familiar Face
Messages
93
Location
Santa Monica, CA
'55: born

Little tract house, then a bigger one. Dad had a 52 ford and 53 chevy he alternately kept running. Mom didn't get a license until '68. Didn't need it, didn't care. Catholic schools with nuns and only somewhat brutal priests, but no real perverts. 1st grade choir and church and sacraments and believing it and talking to God and knowing he heard. Mom and Dad together on and through everything. Dad worked for the D.O.D. and really did work to keep us safe here.

Northern california, north bay, laying on the concrete slab asphalt tile floor in summer to get cold. Playin' ball and G.I.Joe all day up at the corner. Tall grass March through june and no houses after three blocks north of home.

The "colored people" burning down their neighborhood because it was unfit for people. The town half black, half white, all angry. Burying our classmates and friends. Making peace. all those bands, Bill cosby records. Hanging out at the library when it looked like the one in the music man. Going to the automovies with mom and dad and my brother and sister in a '63 falcon futura with sandwiches and a cooler on buck night in the summer. Masquerade.

Real hamburgers and french fries filling a brown paper lunch sack. Sandwiches in waxed paper. Fizzies. Everybody lining the streets for the 4th of july parade. Brown-eyed girl and the monkees and grandma's head hitting the table at aunt M's and summer at the farm while she recovered from the stroke. Dad carrying her through Uncle M's house no feeling, all thinking, all finding a way to keep her with us.

Basketball in the open schoolyard all day. Cruising up and down the drag. Blanket camping at the lake. Everybody in the city knowing Dad and Grandpa and Grandpa.

Driving a '51 pontiac chieftain with a flathead inline eight and an oil bath. Leather interior. The car grandpa drove us all to ghe greek dinners in, and one year got rammed, tossing mom into the street, sitting spread legged in the intersection still holding her purse.

Walkiing downtown with grandpa in his straw fedora and flowing pants and the most beautiful shoes. Sitting in his lap and playing with his jowls all day and him never saying anything as I studied his face and played with his whiskers. Old fat greek men smoking stinky fat green cigars in the large leaf patterned wallpaper living room. Sitting on grandpa's lap watching lawrence welk and professional wrestling when nobody knew what steroids would be and still argued about if it was fixed.

Girls with long hair like silk strings and smelling like gentle unknown flowers.

Every good friend I had and I going to see the Godfather together the day it came out.

Sitting in second grade and a nun coming in and going to church all day and praying for the president who was one of us and shot and dead and more one of us for it, another martyr.

Old schoolbooks and cleaning them with pink erasers and sandpaper and cleaning the inside of our wooden desks with lemon. Cream soda. The man from uncle. Speed racer. Star Trek. Sitting under the table in the other room after the alien in the first outer limits came through from another dimension. Being scared and feeling youthfull pity for young martin landau turning into a hunchback alien in another outer limits. Rod Serling.

Rock and roll, and Tower of Power playing at my fairgrounds for 400 people. Dancing with Bobbie. Being certain of anything. Being certain things were getting better. Hearing beatle songs right after they were recorded. Hearing the Youngbloods live before they were recorded. Sitting in Keystone Corner in San Francisco 10 feet from Grover Washington with a stunning young lady who could kiss and kiss until you dissolved into the air like fog.

Reading and reading and reading then writing and writing and writing. Studying all night every night, writing over and over and over to get it just that way, and screw the grades. They took care of themselves if you loved it enough and did it enough.

Finding God in a thousand different concoctions, places and actions. Sitting still and waiting for god to touch your shoulder. Burgers and fries and dogs and pizza, but no fast food.

The constant, wafting of sea air with a hint of diesel.
Kennedy, kennedy, kennedy and king and johnson and that damn war and if they came back, empty, ruined friends. Dad knowing it wouldn't work and was for nothing. Market time and secrets and calls from the screaming wives of the guys they made dad sent to Vietnam to fix the radar.
Mom telling us the legend of dad. All the legends of all of us, teaching us to do something worth doing and do it well.

There was more. Ya hadda be there.

Carpe Diem
Fast
 

Dr Doran

My Mail is Forwarded Here
Messages
3,853
Location
Los Angeles
Fast, Pigeon, Carter, Lincsong, VM, Tomato, and all the rest of you: very interesting memories, poignant and nicely-written. Some of you are quite poetic. There must be something in nostalgia that brings it out.

Thank you. I am enjoying reading these.
 

Dr Doran

My Mail is Forwarded Here
Messages
3,853
Location
Los Angeles
carter said:
Doran, Thank you for reading and your kind comment. These posts would make a great book. :)

Someone should put one together. On durable paper. Because these memories will be even more interesting and valuable in 100 years when all of these things are gone, only existing in museums and the online scrapbooks of nostalgia buffs.
 

carter

I'll Lock Up
Messages
5,921
Location
Corsicana, TX
Originally posted by Doran
Someone should put one together. On durable paper. Because these memories will be even more interesting and valuable in 100 years when all of these things are gone, only existing in museums and the online scrapbooks of nostalgia buffs.

I spent a good portion of our time in VA two weeks ago talking/listening to my Mom and my Aunt Libby. Every time I go back, we look at old pictures and they help me identify relatives from days gone by. Their memories of those times are priceless.One is 85 and the other is 90. I want to record as many of their memories as possible while they are still with us. They are the last surviving daughters from two families that had 13 children between them.
 
Messages
15,563
Location
East Central Indiana
Wow...some of these posts have revived long ago similar memories of my years of "growing up". It leaves me with a warm feeling of..."really wouldn't want it any other way"...even through some of the "not so good times". I do appreciate "my times"....and from what I read here..so do some of the younger crowd just the same. Childhood is an amazing experience...especially when you look back and remember.....
 

imoldfashioned

Call Me a Cab
Messages
2,979
Location
USA
I was born in June of 1968. My childhood was fairly chaotic and, for the most part, bad memories of that time outweigh the good. However, I try give the good memories more attention so they loom larger from being moved the the foreground of my mind, so to speak.

I remember;

Riding my tricycle down a street in New York City lined with tall warehouse like buildings on both sides like something out of a de Chirico painting.

How huge the Greyhound bus tires seemed when my mother and I left New York City in 1972.

Spending days pottering around a small Midwestern town with my grandpa. Watching my grandma making a toy for me with a button and a piece of string when I had chickenpox, walking around town with her when I got better listening to the stories she'd tell me about her 8 brothers and sisters growing up.

Looking at a window display of women's clothes and shoes around 1974 and asking my mother why anyone would wear such ugly things.

My mother kvetching because the Watergate hearings were pre-empting all her soap operas (yes, she is just that politically minded!); my doing an impression of Richard Nixon to make her laugh--I've got a photo of that somewhere...

Sitting in my room and watching how the sun shone across my bed and thinking that this would be the only time everything was exactly this way ever. I can still picture all the details of that moment.

Reading Casper the Friendly Ghost comic books by the light of my nightlight because I couldn't sleep, listening to the indistinct hum of the television set on the other side of the wall.

Going to revival movie houses with my mother in the summer because we couldn't afford an air conditioner (sat through The Sound of Music three times in one day once!). How cold the revival movie house got, how you could squint in the dark and imagine how the place must have looked in the '30's when it was built.

The amazing depth of the color the first time I saw The Wizard of Oz through a vehicle other than a black and white television set.

Being the only kid I knew who wanted to see Star Wars because it was "an Alec Guinness movie".
 

panamag8or

Practically Family
Messages
859
Location
Florida
Most of my memories are tied in to the University of Florida, since I grew up on and around campus. I was born in '66, so I am part of that fairly non-descript generation between the Boomers and Gen-X.

Spending weekends at my step-dad's fraternity house during semester breaks, and having the whole place to ourselves.

Movie nights at the same house, as long as it was a PG movie.;)

Going to the State Museum with a buddy after school, and scaring people in the life-size cave they had there. Another game was going from one end to the other, trying to avoid the cameras. We thought we were the best spies ever.

Catching the campus bus all by myself when I was 10, and going to the student union to play pinball and play with the ducks at the duck pond. All the college girls bought me cokes and called me their "little boyfriend".

Growing up in married student housing, where there were always plenty of kids, and we left our toys out in sort of a loaner system. You could play with anything you wanted, as long as you left it where you found it. We had some fierce big wheel races in those days.

Spending fall saturdays in the press box or on the sidelines at Gator games. Kids weren't allowed in the press box, but my dad would let me carry a camera for him and shoot one or two plays, so the University looked the other way. I ate enough free chicken and hot dogs to feed an army.

Watching the homecoming parades from the 2nd floor of my Grandfather's store downtown, and being so proud the first time I got to march in the parade in high school. Of course, all of the windows were full of family.

Some non-UF memories...

5 years old, getting up at 5 in the morning and sneaking out of the house to go to the "big road" to play with the trucks. Good thing the lady at the end of the street or the milk man would stop me before I got there.

Collecting firelies in a jar at the family property in North Carolina to use as night lights.

Wondering why it never snowed, but always rained at Christmas... in West Palm Beach.

Not getting why it was such a big deal when Elvis died, since the only Elvis I remembered was fat Vegas Elvis.

Since I love talking about myself, I could go on, but I'll spare you all.lol
 

PADDY

I'll Lock Up
Bartender
Messages
7,425
Location
METROPOLIS OF EUROPA
Childhood times...

Late 60's and early 70's: Memories of bombs going off and sirens in the distance. Gunfire and people looking scared as I clung to my sister and we were evacuated out of a large department store in Belfast.

Images of hiding behind the sofa as Daleks and Cybermen chased after Dr Who. Of nights in watching The Pathfinders (about WW2 RAF) or Bill and Ben the flowerpot men!! Or The Sages, or Hector's House!! (remember?).

Saturday mornings watching the Banana Splits, White Horses and old black and white movies with Spencer Tracey and Mickey Rooney..etc. I could lose myself for hours in those old films.

Going to the Astoria with Mr Donnelly, climbing the big stairs and a lady with a flashlight showing us to our seats. Smells of buttered and salted pop corn and sweets being passed along the line. Then the ritual of ice cream as they changed the film reels.
At the end, we all stood proudly to attention like little Guardsmen outside Buckingham Palace, as they played the National Anthem over the tannoy.

Wednesday nights was fish and chip and pastie supper night! yum. In the days when you bought them wrapped in old newspapers.

Memories of playing in my old sand pit in the back garden and it getting refilled once a year.

Sounds of the radio playing Mowtown hits in our old garden shed where my brothers would strip down motorcyles and there was the smell of oil and grease on a hot summer's day.

I still remember believing the neigbour's gardening telling me over the hedge that 'this' special bush was one that grew chocolate Easter Eggs!!

My two most loved garden snails, Jimmy and Sebastian. They went everywhere with me, even to the shops with mum! Did the sun 'really' shine all the time in those days?

Memories of waking up one morning and finding a maroon beret and winged badge on my pillow, which my brother had cadged off a Para (British Army) in West Belfast! I was in heaven for a week!

Of being in bed sick and getting wonderful fizzy Lucozade (made it worthwhile getting sick just to have the Lucozade!!).

Images of a big black and white rocket taking off for the moon, and seeing men walking in slow motion on this white sandy beach (in my eyes) with the earth in the sky where the moon should be. I wanted to be an astonaut too after that!! We made moon rockets that day at school with old squeezy plastic bottles and tin foil!!

Sun filled days down at my grandparents, opening the old red painted door that magically brought you into sand dunes and a winding sand path down to the shore. I loved those rock pools and splashing in the sea. The sea 'never' seemed 'that' cold in those days, I could splash about for hours.

Kids coming into school with flares and shirts trimmed with Tartan. That was when I heard about the Bay City Rollers!

Knowing it was late at night but that I must be on my holidays, when the TV tuned into a picture of the Queen on horse back, reviewing her red coated Guardsmen and the National Anthem playing, then the TV would go blank and a low pitched noise would sound. All the stations were blank...it was midnight.

And it goes on-and-on-and-on...
 

staggerwing

One of the Regulars
Messages
284
Location
Washington DC
I was born in '56, and my memories of childhood are for the most part not pleasant. My father was in the Navy, so we moved constantly. I soon learned to be a loner, since if you did make friends on a military base, chances were either you'd move or they'd move soon. Few childhood friendships lasted more that a year. Besides, you were always the new kind in school, and these were the days when there were no anti-bully campagains like today. So, the new kid got beat up alot. My father was helpful though. He'd encourage me with thoughts like "I don't give a **** if there were four of them. Next time, you better beat their *** or I'm gonna beat yours." So, to this day I have a mean streak I'm not entirely proud of. Of course, there was school itself, which until 6th grade meant catholic school. So when I wasn't getting beat up by bullies, or my parents, it was the nun's turn.

Besides being subscribers to the "spare the rod..." method of child rearing, my parents did other things that would have put them in jail for child abuse today. When I was seven, my father was at sea for 6 months. During that time, my mother would leave me to take care of my 2 year old brother and infant sister while she'd go drinking with other Navy wives (a common problem in the 50s and 60s, I don't know about today), sometimes for days.

When I was 17, my father told me "your mother doesn't want you here anymore." More words were exchanged. He took one last swing at me, and I shoved him down a (short) flight of stairs, packed my things, and left. I saw him a handful of times after that, but we never reconciled. I never shed a tear when my mother called to say he passed away.

In spite of (or maybe because of) all that, I managed to get my pilot's license when I was 17, put myself through engineering and law school, start several successful businesses, and marry a wonderful lady. I know this is kind of a downer compared to some of the posts about happier childhoods, but it is actually somewhat theraputic getting it down in writing. Thanks for the opportunity.
 
Messages
15,563
Location
East Central Indiana
staggerwing...
I can look back at parts of my young life and remember similar circumstances. During those times I felt as if I was alone going through them. Later on in life I realised that other kids had indeed faced hard times that seemed to last long enough for two lifetimes....as well as me. Some of them were so affected that they turned out in and out of trouble...never making much of themselves..or continuously letting others down with excuses of their troubled childhoods. I could understand....but then there are also those who came out of it determined that the same misery wouldn't be passed on by them. Though the scars were there....they seemed to make strong reasons for a different more positive approach to life..and to others...rather than allowing the unfairness of the past to control their lives. It ain't easy...but I salute you...for the courage to conquer or,at least,live with... many of the demons of the past....
HD
 

staggerwing

One of the Regulars
Messages
284
Location
Washington DC
HoosierDaddy,

Thanks for the kind words. Yea, it would have been easy to justify crawling into the bottle, or becoming an axe murder, or pretty much anything in between. But, in a way, I attribute any success I've had in this life to the self reliance I learned when I was young. Kinda like the old saying "eat a live toad first thing in the morning and nothing worse can happen to you all day" - I know I can deal with whatever life throws at me. Nevertheless, I wouldn't wish a childhood like mine on anyone.
 

Big Man

My Mail is Forwarded Here
Messages
3,781
Location
Nebo, NC
I thank God every day for blessing me with the family I was born into. I look back with wonderful memories of my childhood. Oh, of course there were those times of sickness and sorrow and deaths in the family and such, but taken as a whole, the "bad" times pale in comparison to the good times. While I did not understand it then, I do now. The "secret" to our wonderful life was a positive attitude by my parents and grand parents. From them I have learned that we always have a choice to see the good or see the bad in everything. If we choose to see the good, then all those memories of times past will be pleasant.

I was born in 1955. Here are a few of the things I remember as a child that may be interesting:

I remember my Dad's big '55 Buick 98. It had a device on the speedometer you could set to buzz when you reached whatever speed you wanted. I guess the idea was to set it at 55 so you wouldn't accidentally go over the speed limit. any way, I always liked to get in the car without anyone knowing and set it to about 25 mph. That would give us enough time to get out of the driveway and hit about second gear before the thing would give off a loud "buzzzzzz". I always got a laugh out of that.

I remember going with my Dad to shoot rats at the school trash dump. I remember dreaming about the time when I would be old enough to go shoot rats by myself. (It must be a "southern thing" :eek: )

I remember Sunday dinners at my Grandmother's. The whole family always ate together after church on Sunday. After dinner, my Dad would go in the "front room" and take a nap on the couch while the rest of the family would sit on the front porch or in the side yard and talk. I learned a lot about "the good old days" by listening to these conversations.

I remember visiting on Sunday afternoons. Many times after Sunday dinner we would all pile into the car and go to my great aunt's house to visit. We'd always take the road by the old family graveyard and stop to "visit the graves". We'd pass by where aunt so-and-so used to live, or where this or that old store used to be. I probably know more places where someone who's been dead for 100 years lived than I do where folks live now.

I remember my dog going to school with me for the first four years of school. My Dad was the principal and we lived on the school grounds. Old "Tip" would follow me to school and lie down beside my desk in class. When we went outside for recess, he'd play with the children. The only place old "Tip" couldn't go was in the lunchroom. Mrs. Rhyne, the lunchroom manager, absolutely forbid my dog to enter the lunchroom. Mrs. Rhyne passed away about six months ago. She was in her mid 90's. One of the last things we talked about when I visited her before her death was about how she wouldn't let my dog in the lunchroom.

I remember my dear aunt Hazel reading "Doctor Doolittle" to me when I was little. I still have that book, and have read it to my children and to my grandchildren. It is an old and tattered book with an inscription in the front "To Bill, Christmas 1931" (Bill is my Dad.)

I remember my aunt Sara taking me on walks on Saturday afternoons. We'd walk the road that went around the lake, stopping now and then to talk to folks along the way. It didn't take near as much to keep a child occupied in those days (except a lot of time and effort on the adults part).

I remember a lot from my childhood, but I especially remember being loved. Everything else dos not really matter.
 
Remember: Green electric trolleys downtown - Clifton's cafeteria - everything streamline moderne - planes with props - locomotives and the Lurline with relatives - how good Auntie Ann's cigarette smoke smelled - the cold war school drills - Shots then sugar cubes for polio, the kid down the street in braces - choking, obsfucating smog - TV had 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13 and maybe 28 educational tv - Joe Pyne - George Putnam - I Married Joan - December Bride - Helms bakery coaches delivering on regular routes, also dairy trucks with milk in glass bottles - auto (not SUV) drivers who drove, not chatted mindlessly on toy phones - a neighbor who spoke with pride of his new "Italian" "Karmen-Ghia" until informed it was a German Volkswagen, sold it the very next day -

Horrible pedagogy, everyone's parents on prescribed amphetamines or loads of booze, hearing of neighbors who moved away because they could not stand to hear little so-and-so's folks beat, whip & torture him next door (a detective's kid!), tobbacco road style white trash for babysitters (as well as Tuesday Weld, yes!).

Jeepers, why is it so nostalgic for me then? Because somehow I might "go back" and be able to make everything right?

Nurse! Where's my shot?
 

imoldfashioned

Call Me a Cab
Messages
2,979
Location
USA
Big Man said:
I remember visiting on Sunday afternoons. Many times after Sunday dinner we would all pile into the car and go to my great aunt's house to visit. We'd always take the road by the old family graveyard and stop to "visit the graves".

I used to do this with my grandmother too and, somehow, it's always the spring in my memory. We'd stop by my grandmother's cousin's and pick flowers from the enormous lilac bushes at his house--white, pale blue, pale pink and, my favorite, those deep reddish purple ones that were the color of grape juice. We'd go out on Veteran's Day and help put flags on the graves of the Veterans with much of the rest of the town--I wonder if they still do that? Why do I doubt it?

Ironically, some of my favorite memories with my grandmother are set in that graveyard. It was such a quiet, pretty place with lots of wildlife--we often saw deer there. My grandmother's family had lived in that town since the 1840s and everyone was buried in the same graveyard--it always reminded me of Our Town. We'd pass a grave and it would jog some memory of that family, my grandmother would tell me stories about her aunts and uncles as she swept off their graves and put flowers there. I was always impressed at how comfortable she was there, she'd point out her plot with no discomfort at all. I wonder if that's a generational thing--the younger people I know seem so unnerved by death and cemetaries.

Thanks for jogging my memory Big Man.
 

Big Man

My Mail is Forwarded Here
Messages
3,781
Location
Nebo, NC
imoldfashioned said:
... We'd go out on Veteran's Day and help put flags on the graves of the Veterans with much of the rest of the town--I wonder if they still do that? Why do I doubt it? ... I was always impressed at how comfortable she was there, she'd point out her plot with no discomfort at all. I wonder if that's a generational thing--the younger people I know seem so unnerved by death and cemetaries ...

Yes, some people still do put flags on the graves for Memorial Day (this is my youngest daughter and my grandson at my great grandfather's grave).

DSC02064.jpg


My memories of being "comfortable" in the graveyards are the same as yours. It was no big deal to talk about who was going to be buried next to who "when the time comes".

I've tried to pass along that same feeling to my children and grandchildren, as well as to visit the old graveyards now and then. In some way I think it helps keep a connection of sorts alive with family members who have long departed this world. I want my children and grandchildren to know who their people are, and to keep part of their memory alive.
 

imoldfashioned

Call Me a Cab
Messages
2,979
Location
USA
I love that picture Big Man--you've got some good genes there from Mr. Brown! I like Sarah's epitaph.

When I go to the town my grandmother grew up in I always make a trip to the cemetery to tidy up and think about everyone there. I don't find it morbid at all, but my mother does!
 

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