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Remember When

  • Nothing compares to a new baseball glove and bat

    Some days, it pays to be in the right place at the right time. That’s when you hit the jackpot, like I had just done on a hot summer afternoon.

    Yes sir, my curious nature had turned into solid gold.

    I was walking along the railroad tracks between Market Street and the Depot when some men slid open the big doors on one of those black warehouses.

    Their actions got my full attention, seeing how I had never seen anyone going into one of those buildings before.

    I always wondered what, if anything, was stored inside.

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  • Fifty cents and a cake payday was a big deal

    The house next door looked a little different after it was renovated into apartments.

    I spent a good part of the day watching the new tenants move in.

    The man was young and he spoke to me, which got us off to a good start.

    When darkness fell, they drove away and it was several days before they made it back.

    I was outside playing when a Merita bread truck pulled up in the driveway next door.

    That truck sure is something, I thought. You didn’t get to see very many genuine bread trucks up close in our Chesterfield Avenue neighborhood.

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  • Banana pudding lessens the sting (a little)

    Boy, I was hurting. Daddy had just given me one of his better whippings.                     

    I was wearing overall pants (blue jeans), but that didn’t matter very much. His leather belt seemed to cut right through to my bare legs.

    Like a lot of fellas, I got away with more than I should have.

    But this time, it was different.

    Why?

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  • Date of infamy changed our lives

    I was pretty cranky on the morning of Dec. 7, but it was justified.It seems that our national media had forgotten all about what happened on another Sunday morning some 67 years ago and how it changed our lives forever. I haven’t forgotten that day and I never will.

    In about 90 minutes’ time that day, about 2,400 Americans were dead, more than 1,100 were wounded and 18 ships were sunk during the Japanese sneak attack at Pearl Harbor. 

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  • Feed are farm store catered to gardeners and wannabees, too

    Years ago, when my wife and I were considerably younger (and physically able), much of our free time was spent landscaping and keeping up the huge fields around our home.

    In fact, once upon a time, when we just about had them tamed thanks to our frequent Saturday morning visits to Lancaster Feed and Farm Supply.

    Nestled down at the low end of South Market Street across from Jacob’s Hollow, the “feed and farm” and neighboring International Harvester Farmall Tractor place were local landmarks that many of us visited on a regular basis.

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  • New year doesn't feel much different

    Two things have happened. First of all, Christmas has come and gone like a breeze.

    Now, it was New Year’s Eve and Christmas school vacations were coming to a close.

    Like most folks in our neighborhood, our cedar Christmas tree was fading to brown with needles littering the rug.

    Mama and I carefully placed each ornament in a sheet of tissue paper saved from last year.

    We carefully packed the lights, burned out bulbs and all; the war was on and we didn’t throw anything away.

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  • Bowie twins remind me of long-ago adventures

    Unexpected gifts are still the ones we cherish most.

    My granddaughter and her family have been spending a few days with us prior to Christmas.

    Because of circumstances, not everyone celebrates Christmas on Dec. 25.

    Two packages – wrapped by inexperienced Christmas elves – came with them.

    The presents were sent by the Bowie twins, age 8.

    They have taken a shining to me and already want to know when Pop (that’s me) can come back to Maryland.

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  • Do you see what I see?

    As Dec. 25 draws closer, it’s not unusual for service members and their families to be apart or away from home for the holidays.

    When I was in the military, many of my Christmases were celebrated on days far removed from cold December mornings. It came with the territory.

    However, one year was different.

    I had just completed a tour of duty on an isolated Pacific island.

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  • I'm not in the mood to rake

    Fall is with us. Those beautiful leaves of varying hues are gently fluttering over our lawns.

    I am pleasantly surprised to observe that those hundreds of election signs, (at least those along my stretch of the Charlotte Highway), have been removed. I wish I could say the same for the leaves in my front yard.

    Things are getting back to normal.

    Billy Mays has a ton of new stuff to hawk on the television tube. Late night TV hosts are almost speechless. Politics has pretty much run its course, for now.

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  • Pickle jar changed my future

    The pickle jar was a fixture in my parent’s bedroom. It sat on the floor beside the dresser and when Dad got ready for bed, he would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

    The sounds that pocket change made as they were dropped into the jar were always fascinating. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. However, the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

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