In my ’80s

Thursday, April 19, 2018

(This following blog was put together Monday evening, April 16.)

On cold, rainy Monday morning, after breakfast with 13 high school guys, I drive to a spot two miles south of Sporting Hill, two miles west of Root’s Auction, two miles north of Yellow Goose and one mile east of Spooky Nook. That spot is the home place where I spent formative years.

I go  in the front lane, pause at the house and then drive slowly out the back lane. My storehouse of memories are overwhelmingly positive for which I, in my ‘80s  am most grateful. Those memories fit into a number of categories.

• • animals (the baby steers we tamed)
  • chores (gathering eggs)
  • crops (potatoes)
  • dangers (spraying)
  • diversions (hunting season)
  • events (tractor falling into sinkhole)
  • fear (heights)
  • food (fried mush)
  • games (kick the can)
  • house (washing dishes)
  • music (singing hymns at table)
  • neighbors (Bakers, Housmans, Stauffers, Shenks, etc)
  • odors (new hay)
  • outhouse (rats)
  • pets (Lassie)
  • sights (the woods, the creek)
  • sleeping (being called at 4:10 to milk cows)
  • sounds (the Pennsy train coming east from Harrisburg)
  • weather (thunderstorms)
  • work (cleaning steer stables) 

That home place is a huge book of memories.