I Remember When...

[rrford]

I remember...


Screen porches....

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Real home grown tomatoes....

Pressure cookers...

The screen doors and wooden floors of the last of the General Stores....

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

The burn of an ice cold Coca-Cola out of a thick green bottle on a hot Summer afternoon...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Hand cranked ice cream makers...

Pressure cookers...

Vegetables out of Ball Mason jars...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first girlfriend...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Drive-In movies...

When eating out was a special occassion...

My Dad's laugh...

Banquet Pot Pies...

Paper grocery sacks...

The family garden...

Push mowers without engines...

Lawn edging tools that were hand operated...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

Delivering newspapers door to door...

Home milk and dairy delivery...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

Summer days of walking barefoot in the grasss...

Summer nights counting shimmering stars on velvet canvasses...

The first touch of Autumn...

Jumping in a pile of leaves...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

Howard Cosell...



And as the sands of time have probably passed the halfway mark in my life's hourglass I remember thinking I would never get old. Now it seems on a regular basis I try to remember what it was like to be young. I have learned to appreciate leaving an Interstate highway and travelling on the State and county roads more often.

The small towns and communities are nostalgic reminders of a simpler time and slower pace. The City Cafe still causes me to turn into the parking lot and to order the Blue Plate special merely to listen to the conversation of the locals. To be reminded, for just a moment in time, of my childhood in similar places that I haven't been to in years.

On these journeys I have passed many a cemetary in a rural setting. Often I stop and walk the rows of stone memorials to previous lives of flesh and blood. With a startling clarity I realize that these memorials speak of those who also "remembered" and longed for what used to be. I can only hope that this generation to which I belong will leave a legacy that the young among us also view as "The Good Old Days."

"What is life but a vapor that is here and vanisheth away?" Indeed, that is all it is. But like the vapor from Grandma's home canning, I hope the fragance of my "vapor" lasts long after the flame under the pressure cooker has gone out.

[Cindy]

Originally Posted by rrford

I remember...


Screen porches....

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Real home grown tomatoes....

Pressure cookers...

The screen doors and wooden floors of the last of the General Stores....

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

The burn of an ice cold Coca-Cola out of a thick green bottle on a hot Summer afternoon...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Hand cranked ice cream makers...

Pressure cookers...

Vegetables out of Ball Mason jars...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first girlfriend...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Drive-In movies...

When eating out was a special occassion...

My Dad's laugh...

Banquet Pot Pies...

Paper grocery sacks...

The family garden...

Push mowers without engines...

Lawn edging tools that were hand operated...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

Delivering newspapers door to door...

Home milk and dairy delivery...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

Summer days of walking barefoot in the grasss...

Summer nights counting shimmering stars on velvet canvasses...

The first touch of Autumn...

Jumping in a pile of leaves...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

Howard Cosell...



And as the sands of time have probably passed the halfway mark in my life's hourglass I remember thinking I would never get old. Now it seems on a regular basis I try to remember what it was like to be young. I have learned to appreciate leaving an Interstate highway and travelling on the State and county roads more often.

The small towns and communities are nostalgic reminders of a simpler time and slower pace. The City Cafe still causes me to turn into the parking lot and to order the Blue Plate special merely to listen to the conversation of the locals. To be reminded, for just a moment in time, of my childhood in similar places that I haven't been to in years.

On these journeys I have passed many a cemetary in a rural setting. Often I stop and walk the rows of stone memorials to previous lives of flesh and blood. With a startling clarity I realize that these memorials speak of those who also "remembered" and longed for what used to be. I can only hope that this generation to which I belong will leave a legacy that the young among us also view as "The Good Old Days."

"What is life but a vapor that is here and vanisheth away?" Indeed, that is all it is. But like the vapor from Grandma's home canning, I hope the fragance of my "vapor" lasts long after the flame under the pressure cooker has gone out.

Ummmm, you're either really old or you have a good memory.

[rrford]

Originally Posted by cneasttx

Ummmm, you're either really old or you have a good memory.

LOL! 45 isn't really old. But I was somewhat observant of my childhood surroundings and was privileged to not only grow up in rural communities but to also have grandparents that embraced the simplicity of life and hard work.

[Cindy]

Originally Posted by rrford

LOL! 45 isn't really old. But I was somewhat observant of my childhood surroundings and was privileged to not only grow up in rural communities but to also have grandparents that embraced the simplicity of life and hard work.

You blew my idea that you are a.....ahem..... wise old person.

[TalkLady]

Originally Posted by rrford

I remember...


Screen porches....

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Real home grown tomatoes....

Pressure cookers...

The screen doors and wooden floors of the last of the General Stores....

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

The burn of an ice cold Coca-Cola out of a thick green bottle on a hot Summer afternoon...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Hand cranked ice cream makers...

Pressure cookers...

Vegetables out of Ball Mason jars...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first girlfriend...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Drive-In movies...

When eating out was a special occassion...

My Dad's laugh...

Banquet Pot Pies...

Paper grocery sacks...

The family garden...

Push mowers without engines...

Lawn edging tools that were hand operated...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

Delivering newspapers door to door...

Home milk and dairy delivery...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

Summer days of walking barefoot in the grasss...

Summer nights counting shimmering stars on velvet canvasses...

The first touch of Autumn...

Jumping in a pile of leaves...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

Howard Cosell...



And as the sands of time have probably passed the halfway mark in my life's hourglass I remember thinking I would never get old. Now it seems on a regular basis I try to remember what it was like to be young. I have learned to appreciate leaving an Interstate highway and travelling on the State and county roads more often.

The small towns and communities are nostalgic reminders of a simpler time and slower pace. The City Cafe still causes me to turn into the parking lot and to order the Blue Plate special merely to listen to the conversation of the locals. To be reminded, for just a moment in time, of my childhood in similar places that I haven't been to in years.

On these journeys I have passed many a cemetary in a rural setting. Often I stop and walk the rows of stone memorials to previous lives of flesh and blood. With a startling clarity I realize that these memorials speak of those who also "remembered" and longed for what used to be. I can only hope that this generation to which I belong will leave a legacy that the young among us also view as "The Good Old Days."

"What is life but a vapor that is here and vanisheth away?" Indeed, that is all it is. But like the vapor from Grandma's home canning, I hope the fragance of my "vapor" lasts long after the flame under the pressure cooker has gone out.

Does anyone ever feel that now we live in the pressure cookers?.....Right now I am not feeling that way but some days I do feel as though a pressure cooker is my home.

[Pressing-On]

Originally Posted by rrford

I remember...


Screen porches....

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Real home grown tomatoes....

Pressure cookers...

The screen doors and wooden floors of the last of the General Stores....

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

The burn of an ice cold Coca-Cola out of a thick green bottle on a hot Summer afternoon...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Hand cranked ice cream makers...

Pressure cookers...

Vegetables out of Ball Mason jars...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first girlfriend...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Drive-In movies...

When eating out was a special occassion...

My Dad's laugh...

Banquet Pot Pies...

Paper grocery sacks...

The family garden...

Push mowers without engines...

Lawn edging tools that were hand operated...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

Delivering newspapers door to door...

Home milk and dairy delivery...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

Summer days of walking barefoot in the grasss...

Summer nights counting shimmering stars on velvet canvasses...

The first touch of Autumn...

Jumping in a pile of leaves...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

Howard Cosell...



And as the sands of time have probably passed the halfway mark in my life's hourglass I remember thinking I would never get old. Now it seems on a regular basis I try to remember what it was like to be young. I have learned to appreciate leaving an Interstate highway and travelling on the State and county roads more often.

The small towns and communities are nostalgic reminders of a simpler time and slower pace. The City Cafe still causes me to turn into the parking lot and to order the Blue Plate special merely to listen to the conversation of the locals. To be reminded, for just a moment in time, of my childhood in similar places that I haven't been to in years.

On these journeys I have passed many a cemetary in a rural setting. Often I stop and walk the rows of stone memorials to previous lives of flesh and blood. With a startling clarity I realize that these memorials speak of those who also "remembered" and longed for what used to be. I can only hope that this generation to which I belong will leave a legacy that the young among us also view as "The Good Old Days."

"What is life but a vapor that is here and vanisheth away?" Indeed, that is all it is. But like the vapor from Grandma's home canning, I hope the fragance of my "vapor" lasts long after the flame under the pressure cooker has gone out.

Good Lord!!!! Now I have to read this long winded post!!!! I'm glad my husband is preaching tonight. He is not long winded!!!!

Okay - I do NOT remember:

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Push mowers without engines...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

The rest was soooo bee-u-ti-ful

And Yes!!!!! - I do remember what I had for dinner last night - almost burnt air-popped popcorn. I love almost burnt popcorn.

And I don't take Metamucel! The most effective way is to drink a large glass of water (2 cups) every 15 minutes for one hour.

I didn't originally respond to your post because the only thing I was wondering about was the swimming hole. I didn't know you were old enough to jump in leaving your clothes on the bank. After that I couldn't comment. I knew I was going to ask, so I logged out. I know that's how Brother Strange and his buddies used to swim.

[Digging4Truth]

Originally Posted by Pressing-On

Good Lord!!!! Now I have to read this long winded post!!!! I'm glad my husband is preaching tonight. He is not long winded!!!!

Okay - I do NOT remember:

Funeral home fans...

Accordion players...

Chocola....

Popcorn popped over an open flame...

Little league baseball when the uniform was a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with the team sponsors name on it...

Grandma's hand-stitched quilt...

Galoshes...

The smell of an elementary school hallway...

Hand written report cards...

My first kiss...

Detassling corn and walking beans for spending money...

Push mowers without engines...

Black and white TV's with rabbit ears...

A tire swing in the back yard...

The swimming hole...

Grandma's homemade cherry pie...

Storm cellars...

Crank windows...

Reverend Ike on a late Sunday night...

Castor oil...

The first flakes of snow...

Red curved snow shovels...

Moonlight shimmering off of snowdrifts...

High top Converse tennis shoes...

The rest was soooo bee-u-ti-ful

And Yes!!!!! - I do remember what I had for dinner last night - almost burnt air-popped popcorn. I love almost burnt popcorn.

And I don't take Metamucel! The most effective way is to drink a large glass of water (2 cups) every 15 minutes for one hour.

I didn't originally respond to your post because the only thing I was wondering about was the swimming hole. I didn't know you were old enough to jump in leaving your clothes on the bank. After that I couldn't comment. I knew I was going to ask, so I logged out. I know that's how Brother Strange and his buddies used to swim.

You don't remember all those things?

I guess after you get so old you stop remembering those things and start forgetting them.

[Pressing-On]

Originally Posted by Digging4Truth

You don't remember all those things?

I guess after you get so old you stop remembering those things and start forgetting them.

I didn't have those things in my life. It only snowed once while I was growing up! My grandmother never made Cherry pies. I don't remember who I kissed first, I mean, who I let kiss me.....

[dizzyde]

Originally Posted by Pressing-On

I didn't have those things in my life. It only snowed once while I was growing up! My grandmother never made Cherry pies. I don't remember who I kissed first, I mean, who I let kiss me.....

That there is just saaaad. I remember my first kiss like it was yesterday, the butterflys in my stomach and everything!! *sigh...*

[Margies3]

Originally Posted by Pressing-On

I didn't have those things in my life. It only snowed once while I was growing up! My grandmother never made Cherry pies. I don't remember who I kissed first, I mean, who I let kiss me.....

My grandma made cherry pies, but they weren't my favorite. They were ok. But she was really known far and wide for her pecan pies. One day I asked Grandma if she would make me a pecan pie. She told me "NO" but then she told me to get the bowl out and the ingredients out and she made me stand there and make that pie myself. To this day, I am the only one of her 67 grandkids who knows how to make pecan pie like Grandma did She gave me a great gift that afternoon.

Originally Posted by rgcraig

SNOW CREAM!!!!

Anyone remember making snow cream?

I make snow ice cream every year with the first measurable snow. My daycare kids can hardly wait each year. The first day we have enough snow to cancel school, we declare that snow ice cream day.