Reminisce.

Whitesboro, New Jersey was a small country village in 1955. My family lived there. I was nine; a boy.
I had a favorite pastime. I loved it. Mom...didn't like it. That's because she didn't know how to have fun. Watching a passing train crush stuff that she'd left on the rails wasn't her thriller. So she never did that. Her thriller was telling Dad, when ever my sister came racing to her wheezing and panting and snitching on me, when she saw me do it. My older sister. (two years) What the....was that pesky heifer doing outside anyway? Should've been inside...washing dishes, or...platting my baby sister's hair...or...playing raggedy-Ann...or somebody. Girls...you can't live with them. I've tried. And with fired-up buns, I've cried.

Our population was small. Everyone knew everyone. We were family. There must have been fewer than five hundred of us, mostly children. There were more girls than boys. The countryside was our playground. We knew every tree. Our favorite were the fruit trees that grew on the farms. Fresh fruit; you picked it, you ate it. Cherry blossoms were soft-pink. They had the delicate smell of cherry flavored candy. Apple blossoms were snow-white. They smelled like vanilla taffy. Their petals fluttered like butterfly wings in the summer breeze.

My Dad built our cozy cottage with bright-red bricks. It was seated on a green carpet. It was located close to a rail-road path that was lined on either side, by foliage. Just across the tracks a pasture could be seen. We saw cows, goats, and a huge shepherd dog. His name was Earl. Earl was mostly white with a brown spot on his back that looked like a saddle. He roamed the pasture continually. Everybody was scared of Earl. Except me. I sneaked in the pasture every day. I roamed too. Well...at least long enough to see if I could get my....out of there before Earl roamed up on me. One day Earl trotted up on me. He was staring at me, eye to eye. I looked in the grass all around me. A giant-sized chunk of coal from the train tracks would come in handy right about now. But the only thing available was a wet napkin. I scooped it up.
I balled it up into the shape of a chunk of coal. Coal ls black. The napkin was white. I hope this dog don't know colors, I thought. To my relief, Earl turned and trotted away.

I went home feeling pretty good about myself. As I approached my house the aroma of pineapple up side down cake oozed out from Mom's kitchen. I spotted an apple pie sitting on the window sill cooling in the shade. Mom's butter-biscuits always had an aroma of their own. Sunday dinner was always a winner.
I heard Mom singing merrily. The words of her song were of thanksgiving to God for His generous blessings. When I walked in Mom hastened to wipe her hands on her apron. She rushed over, hugged me, and kissed the top of my head. Heeey, I thought. I've been waiting for this moment. Now's my chance.

"Can I taste the pie, Mom?"
"Yes you may. After you've finished your din-din, my dear."
She kissed the top of my head again.

"why in my hair, Mom?"
"That's the only place I can't see the muck."

"Muck?"... "Mire."
"Mire?"..."Mud."
"Mud?"...Go."
"Go?"..."Wash."
"Wash?"..."Ask your father."
"I think I'd rather wash."
"Clever boy."

I stood at the bathroom wash bowl fumbling at a squirting bar of soap. Outside a nearby open window the birds were getting noisy. I jetted over and peered out. As usual, it was my sister's dumb cat. Purr-fick, my sister named It.That too fat cat, was at it again. I'd had a mind to feed that cat to the mice. But I never did for fear that that might kill them. My sister knew that I could easily catch them. She was scared of them. So.....having them around was kind of...like my bargaining advantage when it came down to "To snitch, or not to snitch." I bounced the bar of soap off its back. The cat scat.

The birds settled down. From the tree tops each bird seemed to sing its love song of freedom and gladness. A peaceful feeling came over me. As I stood there gazing out the window a clear picture of my body floating on air came in a daydream. A Cardinal bird glided across the blue sky. Its red feathers matched the white clouds reminding me of our song, "Three cheers for the red, white, and blue." Just beyond Mom's flower garden was a vast open field. Dasies of the field grew knee-high to a nine year old. Bobbing in the summer breeze they boasted banana-yellow happy faces. Soft cream-white petals made their faces seem to smile at me. The fragrance of honey suckle flowers made my taste buds tingle, leaving the flavor of honey in my mouth. Climbing the walls of Mom's garden tool shed red roses grew among prickly vines. Known more for the bees that they attracted than their beauty, we chose to stay clear of them.

Oh! Yes! The snakes. They all seemed big to me. Some of them were not venomous. Others?...Well...
I wasn't sure...so...I wasn't trying to find out, by messing around with any of them. If we saw a snake! Grown-ups were notified with the quickness! And the snake was exposed of even quicker, by a dad with a shot gun. No one was afraid of woodland creatures. Except moms and daughters. They were afraid of any and everything that crept or crawled. This made creepy crawlers fun for us boys. Black crows circled corn fields from above seeking a tasty meal below. Farmers didn't like crows. And the crows didn't care a lot for farmers, or their scare-crows. Black crows are the smartest birds of all birds. They knew the difference. I learned that in school.

School was fun for three reasons. Lunch, which was always home made, and brought to school in a little brown bag, And then there was recess. Both were outdoors on nice days.

Each year we had what my teacher called, a "Spring Concert." We chose a story from our reading books. Students who chose to participate acted the stories out in a musical play. Students enjoyed part taking in the concerts. This gave us opportunity to show off our talents for our parents at the, "Big Show."
This was an event where we were stars. Parents were our fans. They cheered for us, with joy, happiness,
and encouragement. This made us feel, grown up our selves, thought of, as people too.

Parental support and participation made our, "Little League," baseball team the best. Lose or win...we were all still winners.

Our little home town belonged to us, the children. The grown-ups were shepherds. We looked up to our parents. They were our role models. We respected and we honored our, "Old Gold." They were precious to us. We shared homely love with them.

Everyone went to church on Sundays. Sunday school was a must. Bible school was immediately after grade school every Wednesday. There were assorted flavored lolly pops for every child. The teachers were gentle and kind. We loved them. They loved us kids.

As they told us Bible stories they illustrated them with colorful Biblical pictures. The scenery looked so real that it made the people seem to be alive, and present with us all. I learned a lot of worth while things from my Bible School teacher friends. And to this very day, I'm still attending Bible School. And I won't stop.

My childhood life, was the time of my life. I'm a former child. And I haven't forgotten a thing.