Small Town Sundays

When a person reaches a certain point in their life, it seems like all kinds of sensory experiences can whisk them back in time.  Whether it be smells, sounds, or sights, we all fall under a spell and, before we know it, we are remembering, and sometimes, reliving memories from our past.  My biggest triggers seem to be fireflies, box fans, baseball and summertime.   And this morning is no different, as the box fan whirs contently from its place of prominence in the living window and I am looking out on a beautiful sunny Sunday in Southern Oklahoma.  The sounds, the sights, the smells constantly remind me of all the little things that comprised the whole of my childhood - like the now distant Sundays that are etched in my mind for eternity. (I  am forever convinced that the "eternity" reference will hold true; it's the "etched" reference that I am hoping will continue to play out.)

Growing up in a small Oklahoma town, we were like many families - up early, ready, and off to church.  Mom and Dad made sure we attended and, for that, I am eternally grateful, no pun intended!  If it hadn't been for those Sabbaths, spent in Sunday School classrooms and sanctuary worship services, there's no telling how things might have turned out for me.  While I am not saying that I've had a "picture perfect" life, I am confident that I have become a better person because of those early teachings.  I told my Mom one time that, because of our parents' insistence that we attend church, I had never "sinned" accidentally and wouldn't be able to use that as an excuse come Judgement Day.  It's funny and bittersweet, sometimes, to admit and accept that your parents, with all of their shortfalls and eccentricities, really did know what was best for us.  Teenagers, take notice - somehow your Mom and Dad become extremely intelligent after you graduate from college and become adults!

Sundays back in the late 50's, 60's, and 70's really were, for all intents and purposes, "Sabbaths."  No stores were open for business, gas stations were closed, and very few restaurants opened their doors so Sunday Dinner after church was truly "the only thing in town."  I remember Mom rising early and putting on the pot roast with all the fixin's before we even had breakfast.  Sometimes, we would get home and she would do the "quick change" out of her church clothes (remember when we all had church clothes and they were the best and prettiest things we owned?) and into her house dress and apron and fry up some chicken.  Other times, we would head out to my Grandma Rosie's for homemade chicken and noodles or meatloaf or whatever she had on hand.  Believe me when I say that I have never had chicken and noodles that good since.  Grandma Rosie really knew her way around the kitchen!

Afterwards, we would dash outdoors to play until we were summoned inside for my most unfavorite childhood activity - the dreaded afternoon nap.  I was always certain that all kinds of wonderful and exciting things happened to my friends during the two hours that I was forced to lay down and resign from life.  That's how it felt anyways.  Surely, all of my friends and neighbors, who weren't made to nap would have all kinds of thrilling stories to tell me about the adventures they experienced while I "took my nap."  Experiences that I missed out on because I had "to get my rest." I swear my two sisters and I had to take naps every afternoon that we weren't in school until we were of legal driving age.  Well, maybe not until we were that old, but it certainly seemed like we were long past the "normal" age of the afternoon nap-taking set before we won our hard-fought reprieve from this weekend/summertime ritual.

Once we were able to escape the confines of the imposed two hour "rest period", the world was indeed ours.  Whether it was bike riding with our neighborhood friends, or sneaking off to the "sandpile" at Grandma's, I lived for Sunday afternoons.  What imaginative adventures we dreamed up!  Now, I have to admit, being born and raised in a mining town did have its advantages.  Advantages that other kids did not have at their disposal.  All types of leftover mining paraphernalia dotted the landscape around my hometown that consisted mainly of imposing wooden mining derricks that probably were four stories in height to "tailing piles" that consisted of strangely arranged concrete pillars and supports, sort of our own miniature "Stonehenge" right there in Northeastern Oklahoma.

Yep, it was a certainly a child's own piece of paradise, at least in our opinions.  And what fun we had living in that paradise!  See, long before there were video games, or dvds, or social networking sites, kids actually created their own entertainment.  From play-acting as princesses, fairies, or pirates, to the impromptu neighborhood games of baseball or football (strangely enough, and I say 'strangely' because my sisters and I were tall, as in 'stand in the back row of the class graduation picture with the boys' tall, we never played impromptu games of basketball), to the ever-exciting bike chases launched with the intent of capturing the bad guys, did we ever lack for something fun to do.  Wow, maybe that's why even now, my imagination is so vivid.

I know sometimes we tend to embellish or romanticize our past but I don't believe that is the case with our childhoods.  Not that mine didn't have it's rough spots, believe you me.  We certainly experienced our share of drama, trauma, and emergency room visits (most of whom were due to my youngest sister's knack of always finding a novel way of getting a whiplash, an arm sprain, or when resources were limited, a new way to ingest bleach) as did most of the other families in our community.  But we survived, we learned from our mistakes, and we moved on.  We may have grown up in simpler times but that didn't make us simple people, it made us genuine.  We were the generation before technology.  We sat on our front porches and spoke with friends and neighbors who passed our way.  We attended school activities and encouraged and applauded each other.  We frequented our town's businesses because they were owned and operated by our neighbors.  We attended church, and the American Legion Auxilliary meetings with our mom and grandma, and GA's and Girl Scouts because we wanted to do those things, we wanted to belong and learn and make a difference.  We didn't shout at each other, nor bully each other, nor hate each other.  We got along, for the most part.  We were civil to each other and we tried to do the right thing.  I miss those days.