Remember When

I had pulled my Radio Flyer wagon all the way from Chesterfield Avenue and down White Street to the back of Parr Brothers Furniture only to be disappointed.

I needed about one side of a cardboard refrigerator carton to finish my secret hideout, but it won’t get finished today.

Somebody had beaten me to the treasure; the trash bin was empty as a red clay mudhole in the middle of summer.

I was grateful to see warmer weather and the yellow bells and azaleas in bloom. Things were going pretty good until the telephone rang.

Then I was shaken back into reality with the news that a close friend had passed away.

Then almost without warning, three more unexpected deaths reduced my circle of longtime friends.

Someone once remarked that when we pass the age of 65, we began to live on borrowed time.

Frankly, I’m hoping that our Maker will grant me a few more years of leniency on that loan.

I recently crossed paths with an old friend while going inside “the Walmarts,” where Lancaster’s movers and shakers meet these days.

And right off the cuff, he called me a city boy.

That was bad enough, but he didn’t stop there.

It really made the hair on the back of my neck stand up when he said, “According to your articles in the paper, all you do is go to grammar school and build them cardboard airplanes.”

It was all I could do to keep quiet.

This young fella sitting beside me started snickering and pointing at an older gentleman who was walking by.

The lips of the old man (who by the way, was about my age) were moving, but he wasn’t saying anything.

I didn’t see anything strange about his behavior at all. It looked perfectly normal to me. 

Bless Pete, I used to do it all the time when I was growing up.

Evidently, this young upstart is not attune to the wonderful world of invisible friends.