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Remember When

  • Rabbits don't go with tea

    For grown-up women in the South, the highlight of the summer months were those afternoon tea parties.

    Both Aunt Bess (a staunch Presbyterian) and Mama who was a double dipper (sprinkled as a Methodist and baptized as a Baptist) were right in the middle of them.

    The menu for most of these high-society daylight soirées was just about the same.

    The Presbyterians were partial to pimento cheese sandwiches, while the Baptists liked chicken salad.

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  • I have a hard time spelling plagiarism

    Someone recently asked if all of my “Remember When” ideas come from the Internet. 

    The answer is no. Since the first column in 2003, the stuff I write every Sunday is solely based on my memories of growing up along Chesterfield Avenue in downtown Lancaster.

    I catch a fit trying to spell plagiarism, let alone trying to do it.

    Now, if by chance, you see more than one reference to the washing of my dog, Tiger, well, bless your heart. That means you’re keeping up. After all, I gave my favorite all-time dog more than one bath.

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  • New car smell fills fall air

    Fall has arrived. The leaves are turning colors and my sweater feels just right during my morning walks to school.

    Leaves and cooler days are fairly obvious signs that summer is slipping away.

    What’s happening downtown is another visible reminder, and that’s what has gotten the attention of boys of all ages.

    Mr. Burns, whose Chevrolet place is across the road from the courthouse, and Mr. Brigman’s Ford dealership at the corner of Catawba and Arch streets are getting ready for the new 1940 models.

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  • Watching people keeps me occupied

    I was in a Saturday afternoon rut. Me and my buddies had done about everything there was to be done.

    Of course, the recent battle I waged against the Rogers’ boys on Market Street didn’t help. Mama had me on a short leash.

    What started as a mud ball fight ended up in full-blown warfare after somebody put a rock inside a mud ball.

    And it found its mark, too. I took a direct hit; the mud ball popped me square in the mouth, drawing blood from one lip and chipping a front tooth.

    The outcome of that battles was two “nevers.”

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  • Autumn sounds uppity to me

    You know, some things never change.

    There are always some folks sitting around thinking of stuff to confuse the rest of us.

    This time of the year some of us call the season fall, ’cause leaves are beginning to fall from the trees.

    Others refer to the changing season as autumn which sounds more uppity to me.

    Regardless of what you call the season, I know it’s on its way. The persimmons falling are sweet and I am trying my level best to keep the possums away.

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  • I just don't have as much to talk about

    It never fails. If you are a happily (or unhappily) married man and have been for a number of years, your bride will initiate this conversation during a road trip.

    And if she hasn’t done it yet, don’t worry. It’s coming.

    It goes something like this: “Say something. We’ve gone 200 miles and you haven’t said a single word to me. And don’t tell me you’re quiet from driving and paying attention to the road, either.

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  • A basket will put me in business

    Times were tough, but not tough enough for us to give up.

    We were doing without a bunch of stuff at our house, but so were all our neighbors here  and across the nation.

    We had been at war for right at four years.

    Some folks griped, but a lot of smart folks on the “Colossus of the South” with Mr. Grady Cole were telling us that things were going to be better than ever. It was about time, I thought.

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  • I'll mow my way to new friends

    It’s been a long time since I jockeyed an infant through busy shopping center or pushed a stroller along a neighborhood sidewalk.

    But it has caused a recent stir.

    I’m amazed at the number of unlikely shoppers who stop and speak to our  great-granddaughter and pass the time with a kind word or two.

    At first, neighbors just glanced away as I nodded my head when we walked past. Now, we get a few waves and smiles. Sometimes, they’ll even walk over to speak.

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  • Chicken biz for the birds, bakery

    If downtown Concord, N.C., would have been Lancaster some years ago, we’d have been in trouble. Uncle Harry would have been standing before a judge trying to keep us from getting fined.

    I don’t know if you heard, but they announced Friday morning on the TV news that the elected folks in Concord voted down allowing chickens inside its city limits.

    You know, there was a time when chickens and doughnuts shared a common bond in downtown Lancaster.

    I’m about to explain it.

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  • History can wear you out

    It’s a given that I have a very healthy respect for boogers, hobgoblins and ordinary ghosts.

    Since I’m now in southern Maryland a few days each month, I figured I oughta try to learn a little something about this place.

    The town my granddaughter and her family now call home is Lexington Park.

    A little bigger than Rock Hill, its name comes from the Navy aircraft carrier, the USS Lexington, which was sunk by the Japanese in World War II during the Battle of the Coral Sea.

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