Technological Memory Trips

I took a stroll down memory lane this morning--in more ways than one. In that waking moment, that moment just before full awareness, where the conscious mind seems to waltz with the subconscious was the song “500 Miles”. Even as my feet found the floor, the song lingered. I put the coffee on and ventured out onto the deck to water the herb seedlings with 500 Miles running through my head. The humming followed and then--with the rhythm of the water--I burst into song for all of Savannah (well, at least my neighbors) to hear. After the watering task I went straight for the CD player and punched the appropriate keys to find The Kingston Trio and 500 Miles. While the song played it occurred to me ‘I am about 500 miles from my childhood home’. 

Via the wonderful world of Facebook, I’ve recently reconnected with several people from my hometown, some that I’ve had no contact with since early childhood and many from my school--Clements High School. I’m certain this activity had much to do with my subconscious waltz. After brushing the teeth, washing the bod’, donning the duds, petting the pup and pouring the coffee, I headed downstairs to Google-Map the distance from here to my childhood home. It was only 498 miles. Ah! I had to make it work. Remembering that mother had always said we lived two miles from the school, I added Clements as my final destination. It is so! It was exactly 500 miles. 

When my sons were young, we would pick an extraordinary, or far away, place to visit (ie. London, England). I would go to the library to get a copy of the city map; to a travel agency to nab brochures; and to encyclopedias for further information. We learned about and talked of the place for a week and then we would sit together on the floor with all of our materials spread out in front of us and take a trip. Using the maps we walked the city streets calling out landmarks as we encounter them, discussing them, what we had learned and the history of the place. Wonderful trips and now great memories. 

Today I was able to walk the streets around my childhood home and the Clements community via the Google Maps street view application. Technology is amazing. I started from my childhood home walking east from our driveway. That was the house my father build while working for Jim Walter Homes. The seafoam green was applied in later years. One of the neighbors that lived across the road supplied the current photos (Thanks, Johnny). The old Smith place, where Tommy and Johnny lived is a bit like most of us-- the same yet, older and looking a little ragged around the edges. I paused for a moment at the top of the hill, spanning/looking left across what used to be a cotton field--now a cow pasture--I could see the back of my grandparents place over on Hwy 72. I did that as a child, too. 

There’s a new house built atop that hill just above the Smith place. My grandfather used to own that land. There was a little brown rental house there that came complete with outhouse. I don’t know that my recall of tenants is chronologically correct yet, I recall the Culkins [sp?], an elderly couple that drove an old green truck, which I loved--them and the truck; the Barnes family, Hazel was in my class; a Nash family, I think Ann was in Felita’s class; and my Uncle John and his bushel basket. 

Continuing down the hill I passed the house where Nancy Nash lived and just beyond there on the left, passed Debbie Watson’s house. A few houses down (a later addition) is the house Mark & Frankie built (two of my Clements classmates). At the top of that hill, on the right was Mrs. Easter’s house. As a child I would always stop to admire Mrs. Easter’s beautiful flower garden and before I left she would bring out this wonderful tin containing King Leo soft peppermint sticks and offer one to me. I always took one yet, secretly wanted the tin more than the candy. Just beyond Mrs. Easter’s house, I spied a house I remember but, for the life of me cannot recall the name of the family that lived there. [Anyone?] Turning left onto Log Cabin Road I saw a multitude of new houses. Reaching the end of that road and Hwy 72, I was happy to see the old Log Cabin grocery still standing, as well as the house across the road--though now looking like forlorn roadside shacks. 

If my memory serves me correctly that house had a breezeway which I thought was one of the coolest things in the community. [If anyone reading this can confirm that memory, I would greatly appreciate it.] 

I turned west onto Hwy 72 and checked out the grandparents place. All the hills, embankments and even houses seem much smaller than I remember. I continued west on 72 to Clements and was amazed at all the kiosk-type buildings, structures and growth. I strolled back home via Ezell road, stopping by the cemetery at the end of that road long enough to linger in a few memories. 

I went back to the map view and traced the bus route I rode for years. I was really amazed at my recall of the route, who we picked up, where, and the flood of memories about those folks from those years. 

If you haven’t experienced the Goggle Map street view application, let me encourage you to do so. You can travel to and see places you’ve never been--without having to make treks to the library or travel agencies--and in a sense, travel back in time. Enjoy your journey.

Rock throwing Lawnmowers

When Felita was old enough (I’m not sure how old that was), Mother would make her treks to town or to do community/family errands leaving us at home with chores (always with chores)--under Felita’s supervision. As soon as that old blue station wagon disappeared over the eastern hill, the chores were abandoned for some sort of play, if not mischief. 

Felita was all about having time to herself, listening and dancing to the tunes on the radio with her friends and our closest neighbors, Nancy or Debbie, allowing us to do whatever we wanted...until something went wrong or the time was drawing near for mother’s return. 

On one summer day we were left with the chore of mowing the two-acre lawn--not foreign to us, ‘twas something we had done since we were big enough to push the mower. On this day, my two younger sisters and I were romping in the summer sunshine and decided to play hide-and-go-seek. Beverly and I had our turns at seeking and eventually Pauline was ‘it’. Beverly and I ran off as Paula was counting out the time for us to hide. Contemplating the best of hiding places, Beverly and I decided that we would really throw her for a loop and hide inside the house. We ran around the house and into the back patio door, locking it behind us, laughing all the while. [Our doors were never locked!] 

Just after we entered the house, Paula was on the prowl. Ducking below the windows, Beverly and I gleefully watched as she searched all around--for quite some time. Eventually, exasperated with the hunt, Paula tried to enter via the patio door, found it locked and knew we were inside the house. She started around the house and Bev and I immediately headed for the front door, arriving a moment before her, locking it as she shrieked. Whew! Then we remembered that Felita’s bedroom window was open and ran down the hall into the bedroom and slammed it shut--laughing--just as Paula appeared outside. 

The unjustified scorn delivered by Beverly and me was just a bit too much and that little feisty squirt of a sister began pounding on that window, demanding that we let her in. All of a sudden there was a clash, glass flew our way and it looked as if something had been thrown right into the middle of that window.  Felita is suddenly jolted from developing the proper choreography to Cher’s “Half-Breed” playing on WKAC. 

When mother arrived there was a wee bit of grass cut--a path in front of the house.  In that path, which just happened to be right in front of that broken window, was one-half of a hard clay rock and the other half was inside on Felita’s desk with all that broken glass. 

I truly don’t remember how the idea developed yet, it was collective-sister minds and a memory that stays. We did eventually tell Mom and Dad what had happened--later in life.