I Remember When... - Page 12

rrford · #**111** 12-02-2008, 10:12 PM

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.

rrford · #**112** 12-02-2008, 10:32 PM

I remember when there was FCF...

And then there was NFCF...

Pressing-On · #**113** 12-02-2008, 10:33 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by rrford

I remember when there was FCF...

And then there was NFCF...

Go to bed, Alec!

rrford · #**114** 12-02-2008, 10:35 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Pressing-On

Go to bed, Alec!

LOL! Figures. I write a post on this thread in which I wax poetic and eloquent and you don't respond. Then I post the tripe about FCF and NFCF and you tell me to go to bed.

Cindy · #**115** 12-02-2008, 10:35 PM

Quote:

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 · #**116** 12-02-2008, 10:36 PM

Quote:

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.

OneAccord · #**117** 12-02-2008, 10:39 PM

Here's one.

When I was 12 -Christmas past

When I was a kid, you could walk up to a Coke machine, put your dime in (Yes, kiddies, Cokes cost a whole dime back then) then, open a door at eye level and "presto" there was your Coke. No bending, no stooping, just open the door and pull out your Coke.

Now that I am age 52 -Christmas Present

Put 1.25 in the Machine (or use your Mastercard). Re-insert your 1.00 about 3 times because it had a microscopic wrinkle. Then wait. Wait. .... wait some more. Press the return coin button a few times, because you think it is sold out. Finally, "plop!", out comes you drink (Of couse, not what you wanted). But where is it? Way down at the bottom of the machine. Set you bags down (or ask a stranger to hold them, Good luck with that), get down on your hands and knees (be sure to put your knee on that gum wad there), reach your hand up to your nekkid elbows and retrieve your drink -the one you didn't want. Open it carefully. Carefully, I said! It just fizzed everywhere because it just dropped 8 feet to the bottom of the machine.

When I am age 70 -Christmas future

Put 10.00 in the machine. (or, just scan your right hand across the scanner- you know, the one thats got the implanted chip). Go shopping. The machine is mixing the ingredients. All the secret Coke ingredients are in the machine and are mixed according to a digitalized forumula. Your cell phone rings (the one implanted in your right ear), "Hello. this is your nearest Coca Cola machine. Your order has been processed, and is now available for your consumption. Please proceed to receive your order." You get to the machine. Wheres your drink? You have to lay on the ground. Ask some strangers passing by (Good luck with that one) to lift the machine so you can crawl up under it to get your Coke. Which, isn't Coke. Its the "New- Superformulated Diet Coke- with Stress Relieving Hormones" (and a microchip implanted in the can to ensure that you recycle.)

TalkLady · #**118** 12-02-2008, 10:43 PM

Quote:

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.

Cindy · #**119** 12-02-2008, 11:00 PM

Quote:

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.

Sherri · #**120** 12-03-2008, 07:11 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by OneAccord

Here's one.

When I was 12 -Christmas past

When I was a kid, you could walk up to a Coke machine, put your dime in (Yes, kiddies, Cokes cost a whole dime back then) then, open a door at eye level and "presto" there was your Coke. No bending, no stooping, just open the door and pull out your Coke.

Now that I am age 52 -Christmas Present

Put 1.25 in the Machine (or use your Mastercard). Re-insert your 1.00 about 3 times because it had a microscopic wrinkle. Then wait. Wait. .... wait some more. Press the return coin button a few times, because you think it is sold out. Finally, "plop!", out comes you drink (Of couse, not what you wanted). But where is it? Way down at the bottom of the machine. Set you bags down (or ask a stranger to hold them, Good luck with that), get down on your hands and knees (be sure to put your knee on that gum wad there), reach your hand up to your nekkid elbows and retrieve your drink -the one you didn't want. Open it carefully. Carefully, I said! It just fizzed everywhere because it just dropped 8 feet to the bottom of the machine.

When I am age 70 -Christmas future

Put 10.00 in the machine. (or, just scan your right hand across the scanner- you know, the one thats got the implanted chip). Go shopping. The machine is mixing the ingredients. All the secret Coke ingredients are in the machine and are mixed according to a digitalized forumula. Your cell phone rings (the one implanted in your right ear), "Hello. this is your nearest Coca Cola machine. Your order has been processed, and is now available for your consumption. Please proceed to receive your order." You get to the machine. Wheres your drink? You have to lay on the ground. Ask some strangers passing by (Good luck with that one) to lift the machine so you can crawl up under it to get your Coke. Which, isn't Coke. Its the "New- Superformulated Diet Coke- with Stress Relieving Hormones" (and a microchip implanted in the can to ensure that you recycle.)

THIS IS AN AWESOME POST!!!! I love it.