Main Street | Appreciating the Past

Life was simple and at times complicated.  A simple day was taking a walk on the gravel roads, singing at the top of my lungs while the cows came and stood around listening from the other side of the fence. They were some of my best audiences–  they would stand there and Moo and chew their curd, not moving at all until my song was done.  There were some days I would simply walk down those old gravel roads singing as loud as I could sing just to see how many cows would come and here my song.  There were days when 50-60 cows would be standing there mooin and chewin’ and looking me straight in the eye.  I found my voice singing to those cows.

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

I remember buying school shoes at the Town and County Store right on Main Street.  We bought our clothes and shoes right in Wamego for the school year.  One year I took my younger sister and brother, Jamie and Jeff to buy shoes.  Jeff got so excited about his new shoes that he ran right out of the store and up the street.  He was only 4 so I grabbed Jamie and ran to catch him.  I caught Jeff halfway to the railroad tracks –However, I ran out of the store so fast I forgot to pay.  In those days, the store just called Dad and explained the situation – Dad was there the next day with the shoe money.  Jeff sure did like those shoes, he ran everywhere in those shoes.  Years later he was still running in the Wamego High School Cross Country.  Those feet took him and his team to first place in Cross Country State and there is a plaque hanging to this day in Wamego High School.

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

When Jamie was 5 years old and Jeff 4.  She decided to teach Jeff how to ride his new bike.  We had a large cement patio in the front of our house.  Jeff got on his bike with training wheels and Jamie said ‘Im going to give you a push and then you need to pedal’.  Well, she was a strong little 5 year old and she gave him such a big push that he went flying right off the patio and smack into the tree.  Jeff started crying and Jamie started yelling, ‘Jeff, I told you to pedal’!!

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

One winter we got 3 feet of snow and Dad was building one of his roaring fires. He sent Penny and I out to get wood.  She started throwing acorns at my head so I started chasing her.  Now Penny always had a habit of wearing these shoes that were clogs outside without any socks – even in 3 feet of snow.  That day after being hit in the head with one too many acorns – I started chasing Penny and she ran so fast that she ran out of her clogs.  She was bare foot in 3 feet of snow about 200 yards from the house, so I did what any good big sister would do.  I grabbed her clogs and ran into the house so that she had to walk back to the house barefoot.  That day our ‘love-hate relationship’ turned around as I loved it and she hated it.

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

On the farm we had horses, cows and at one time hogs.  Dad bought a Shelton Pony for the family with a little buggy to hitch the horse up to.  Now that horse was as stubborn as the one who liked to ride it – but I will mention no names (at least in this sentence).  I do remember looking out the window one cold afternoon and seeing my sister on that horse and it was jumping and bucking.  Well that horse found its match in my sister because my sister found her stride with that horse.    She was a gymnast and when that horse would buck and kick, she could jump right off over its head and land on her feet without ever falling over.  She loved that little horse and then she loved the big ones.  She rode them, brushed them, bathed them and broke them.  She cleaned the stalls in the barn.  That was her world and she loved it.  She loved the barn and I loved the Piano.  That’s when we found our peace with each other.   She had a way with horses and I thought that was pretty cool.

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

Every year, two weeks before Christmas our family would cut down the Christmas Tree.  My mom always wanted one from the christmas Tree farm because some of her friends got their trees there.  Mom was a bit like Za Za Gabor on Green Acres and my Dad was a big like Eddie Arnold.  Mom liked to have bragging rights that we also got our tree from the Christmas Tree Farm but Dad would not have it.  Not when we have so many Evergreen Trees down in the Pasture.  We had our yearly joke we played on Mom.  We always picked out 2 trees, the first tree of which we presented Mom with every year – looked a bit like the Christmas Tree from the Peanuts…Its A Charles Brown Christmas.  It had about 3 pine needles on it – and the rest bare.  Mom never seemed to never like our joke as every year she got mad.  Then we would present the real tree.  I still have memories of the scent of pine filling our whole farm house.  One year the cat climbed the tree and we heard a meow and a crash right in the middle of the night.

I think about those days when I drive down Main Street.

My Mom loved tinsel.  She said if you put it on right, the tinsel dances in the sunlight and in the moonlight.  She liked to put it on one strand at a time.  When we were young we would sit there and watch her hang each one.  Sometimes it felt as if I was watching a master artist put on the finishing touches.  When we were older Mom would give each of us kids some tinsel to hang.  I remember trying to put it on just like I saw Mom, making sure it was even through out the whole tree.  Penny put on her tinsel, Jamie would put on hers and Jeff – well Jeff was a busy boy with lots of things to do.  When Mom wasn’t looking, he would roll it up in a ball and throw a big old ball of tinsel right on the tree.  We always knew where Jeff’s tinsel was.  Mom would want to rehang it and Dad would say ‘Just leave it there.  It is perfect the way it is’.  Years later, Jeff became a really good pitcher.  I wonder if all that practice of throwing that ball of tinsel at the Christmas tree struck a cord in his heart for pitching?

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