As I watched two little boys playing this morning, I was taken back to my own childhood. My best friend was my brother Buddy. We were children of the 60’s. We were poor, but not too much more than many of the other kids we knew. This day burst forth as a breath into a dying soul. The memories of freshly plowed fields and the clod fights Buddy so loved rush back to me as if someone turned on a light. Toys in our day may have consisted of a train set made of rocks, tied together with twine, strung along with little hands, sharing back and forth. We made “stilts” out of tin cans with strings running through both sides of the can that had been opened with a simple, pointed bottle opener, putting our feet through the strings and pulling up on the can, oh what fun! We had a long rope in the largest tree in the shelter-belt that would petrify most parents today. Baseball played with sticks and rocks. Fire flies, crickets, grasshoppers and other crawly things we could put in our pockets were for trade. And marbles, who didn’t love marbles? We stayed outside ALL day, everyday. House was not made for kids in the summer time. If our parents had company, we went outside. My oldest brother worked at the Coca Cola bottling plant and would bring us drinks. To this very day, I cannot open a sprite without thinking of him. The spritz and small spray have a very distinct smell, one you can taste before you drink it. It tasted like a bit of heaven. Always a memory in my coffee that takes me back to then.
Copyright @coffeewithcharles.blog (Charles D. Grant)