Once upon a time in a land far, far away, Super Bowl Sunday meant something to me. Oh, and so did fishing, skating, and the sock hop in Convention Hall back home in Kansas. That was probably the best year of my entire life. I had a boyfriend at the time named Corky. Now back in the day "boyfriend" meant something different than it does today. It meant he was a boy and he was also my friend. I have to be upfront about Corky. He was a dancing fool and the two of us won every dance contest we entered. Remember years ago when Dick Clark had American Bandstand and it was in black and white? That was us. Corky would flip me over his back and I could land on my feet and never miss a beat. I can replay those days in my head and feel young again.
But alas, the days of sand and shovels are far and away gone. Corky is but a distant memory and the sock hops of those bygone years are not related to this old arthritic body because if anyone threw me in the air now I would break every bone in my body when I crashed to earth. However, the best part of growing older is the memories, because they get better every year. I think we won all the dance contests, but I have no little trophy's to prove it. I can still hear Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins. My feet still tap to Blueberry Hill, The Stroll, Heartbreak Hotel, and Blue Suede Shoes, Rock Around the Clock and Chantilly Lace.
It is the same moon up in the sky and the same sun shining in the heavens, but it is different. I was amazed when we put a man on the moon and my heart still aches as I see the Challenger explode with the astronauts on board. The kids today can read about history, but they can not feel it. They can celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr., but they can not know the shame and disgrace of "seperate but equal." We knew when they called it that what it was...discrimination pure and simple. White dating black back in those days was a death sentence for sure. My mother lived the dust bowl years. My father lost 2 kids to dust pneumonia. I know it, but I don't feel it. When I was born we were at war. Today we are engaged over seas, but is it war?
I grew up with an outhouse and now I do not think they exist. I grew up in the time of polio, chickenpox, measels and whooping cough. I had a friend in an iron lung. She died.
I never went to a dentist and had my tonsils out when I was 10 years old. I was sickly and bled out my ears when my tonsils were infected. And I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to go to Africa and take care of the poor starving people. That never happened. Do I have regrets in my life? Many. Can I change an iota of the past? No.
So some times I get melancholy and sad. Does it stop me? No. As I look back down the long road behind me and the short road ahead of me I often wonder if God gave me the chance to change any one thing along that long road what it would be. I have my answer. Nothing.
But alas, the days of sand and shovels are far and away gone. Corky is but a distant memory and the sock hops of those bygone years are not related to this old arthritic body because if anyone threw me in the air now I would break every bone in my body when I crashed to earth. However, the best part of growing older is the memories, because they get better every year. I think we won all the dance contests, but I have no little trophy's to prove it. I can still hear Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins. My feet still tap to Blueberry Hill, The Stroll, Heartbreak Hotel, and Blue Suede Shoes, Rock Around the Clock and Chantilly Lace.
It is the same moon up in the sky and the same sun shining in the heavens, but it is different. I was amazed when we put a man on the moon and my heart still aches as I see the Challenger explode with the astronauts on board. The kids today can read about history, but they can not feel it. They can celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr., but they can not know the shame and disgrace of "seperate but equal." We knew when they called it that what it was...discrimination pure and simple. White dating black back in those days was a death sentence for sure. My mother lived the dust bowl years. My father lost 2 kids to dust pneumonia. I know it, but I don't feel it. When I was born we were at war. Today we are engaged over seas, but is it war?
I grew up with an outhouse and now I do not think they exist. I grew up in the time of polio, chickenpox, measels and whooping cough. I had a friend in an iron lung. She died.
I never went to a dentist and had my tonsils out when I was 10 years old. I was sickly and bled out my ears when my tonsils were infected. And I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to go to Africa and take care of the poor starving people. That never happened. Do I have regrets in my life? Many. Can I change an iota of the past? No.
So some times I get melancholy and sad. Does it stop me? No. As I look back down the long road behind me and the short road ahead of me I often wonder if God gave me the chance to change any one thing along that long road what it would be. I have my answer. Nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment