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Remember When

  • Just ring the bell and run

    – Editor’s note: W.B. Evans is on the mend after a recent at-home mishap. “I climbed a ladder and fell off, simple as that,” he said. “I ain’t as young as I sometimes think I am.” We are reprinting this Remember When column on Vacation Bible School that was originally published in the June 29, 2008, edition of The Lancaster News.

    No sooner had the final school bell rung for our last day at Chesterfield Avenue Grammar School, the bell at First Baptist Church peeled, summoning all of us to Vacation Bible School.

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  • Just where did all the whoopin' and hollerin' go?

    I have breaking news: Our neighborhoods have disappeared.
    The young folks moved away and the older folks have gotten older or moved on, too.
    What happened? Our neighborhoods are now full of strangers who seldom speak, much less wave.
    Why are there no children riding tricycles or scooters on the sidewalks?
    Shucks, most recently developed neighborhoods don’t even have sidewalks. For that matter, most of  the residents don’t even know what a scooter is.

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  • Dads need hugs from stubborn sons, too

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  • Just ask the grandkids about me

    Boy, I sure am feeling much safer.  For a few dollars each month I can now protect myself from identity loss.

    Somebody wanting to be me... imagine that. 

    According to the television commercials, somebody out there is just waiting to swipe my credit card and charge thousands of dollars to it. 

    To tell the truth, with my credit score, that would be a real feat, if you get my drift.

    You know, all this identification stuff is sorta hard to grasp.

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  • Don’t ever forget to share the good stuff

    Somewhere along the road to old age, I found myself too involved and in a hurry to get nowhere. 

    I’ve missed out on things by not taking the time to stop and smell the roses.

    Does any of this sound familiar? 

    You know, I think it’s partially due to our upbringing. Every daddy has the feeling he had a hard life growing up. That’s part of being a father. 

    Because of that, we silently vow to make up for it by making things easier for our children.

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  • Carboard cartons never get their due

    A couple of weeks after Sears and Roebuck sent back Aunt Bessie’s check for  my J.C. Higgins Roadmaster, stuff was changing in a hurry.
    One of ‘em was my opinion of President Roosevelt. I thought he had made a big mistake. I just couldn’t figure out how one bicycle could contribute so mightily to the war effort.
    Mama was reading the morning paper about how tires, gasoline, sugar, electric ice boxes, Hershey Bars, and shoes, among other things would be in short supply for the home folks.

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  • Walking home stirs childhood memories

    While vacationing in Maryland, I got one of those phone calls nobody likes.

    It seems that a hailstorm damaged the roof of our “Charlotte Road” home. 

    Somebody (not me) decided that I should make the trip back south by myself to check everything out and call the insurance company, if necessary.

    So much for my spring getaway. Sometimes this retirement gig ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

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  • It's not a forest, but it will do

    Bless Pete, I’m suffering from Osama bin Laden overload.

    It’s kinda like having to unfasten your britches due to that last piece of pie you just had to have.

    Right now, I’ve had my fill when it comes to reading, watching, hearing and talking about the demise of Osama bin Laden.

    Now, the very first reports about him sure seemed like the kind of heroic story old veterans like me yearn for. 

    The Twin Towers mastermind was finished off in a way that befit his own lifestyle (see Matthew 26:52). 

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  • Mother's Day pin never lost its luster

    – Editor’s note: W.B. Evans is on vacation this week. Due to reader requests, we are reprinting this Remember When column, which was originally published in the May 13, 2007, edition of The Lancaster News. “Mamas cannot be replaced, but our memories help keep them alive,” Evans said. “I’m getting mushy, but somehow I feels that she knows I still care, at least, if The Lancaster News is on the newsstands in heaven!”  

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  • Things sure are smelling better

    Here we go again. It’s been a whole week since Easter and the great-grands are still begging me to hide the eggs, one more time.
    Fortunately, somebody invented plastic eggs. The mess of real chicken-produced eggs from the coop in the back yard that came to life thanks to Mama’s boiling and dyeing efforts are a thing of the past.
    As a child, my enjoyment of the egg-hunting didn’t last this long.
    Mama started the spring cleaning right after Easter.

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