As I sip my coffee from my favorite cup this morning, I find myself slipping back in time again. Sounds much like dementia, but I assure you I have no such diagnosis, at least not yet. Growing up in rural America, people think there is nothing to do. What people? Even the older generation, the ones older than me can think back to what happened in their lives. When did becoming old cause young people to think we had no experiences, or that we lived this life in some sort of vacuum? Ha! That’s like saying “If these walls could talk”. I know in years gone by there were several theatres, even drive in theatres in our town. But, this memory happens on Friday and Saturday nights. Starting out on an early Saturday morning, any number of people could be seen window shopping in one of the many storefronts around the square and up the road. We were an advanced community with essentials and choices at our fingertips. As the sun started going down, the traffic began to increase. No, in this scene the carpet was not rolled in by midnight, for there was too much adventure to partake. The square had to be driven around for the thousandth time and car horns that had to be heard, much like a Morse code. I’m not saying we didn’t have curfew’s. “Oh, I forgot”, that is a word that is virtually retired too. For those reading today’s nostalgia, curfew meant there was a time we had to be home or suffer consequences. This word still exists today for some, but mostly in our memory. What a grand theatre the Palace was, as was the Zana, I’ve been told, but that was a little before me too. I can remember exactly how it looked and I haven’t been in that building in, well you know, years. The door opens and the concession stand is to the left, wafting off the aroma of popcorn. What a brilliant idea to lure money to jump out of the pocket. The display case has Milk Duds, Oh Henry’s, Chick O’ Sticks, Milky Ways and Snickers bars, and has a soda fountain. The ticket booth is straight ahead, with a small arched, cut out window for the ticket taker. There are upcoming movie posters to the right on the walls. The lady’s restroom to the left end of the hall and the men’s to the right. I can see in my mind the age the accents were now, including the lavatories. The large auditorium had a slanted floor, making one almost feel as though they were lurching forward as they found their seat. At the very end of the theatre was a stage where plays could be performed. There was a balcony above that I shutter to think of the goings on, but I’m old remember and I’m not supposed to know that stuff. I have no idea how I lived so long to be so dumb, do any of you? LOL……The ending to all of this stutter is simply leaving the theatre and remembering the color of blue jeans under the lighted courthouse square. Under that light, they were purple, vivid hues of purple. What a strange memory.
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