MY MEMORY LANE

© 2007, Wanda L. Harrell

My Memory Lane is now far, far away, but I frequently visit there with both, a smile and a tear,

As I pay brief calls to little girl memories, simple recollections of childhood I hold especially dear.

My memories include…

Being taught early on to respect our elders, be quiet when the older folks want to talk,

Learning not to touch things that were not ours, and when inside to sit quietly or calmly walk,

Riding a wild pony that would take me anywhere, but really was my daddy’s knee;

My sister and I wearing Mickey Mouse ears as we watched the mouse on black and white TV,

Cold winter nights, wearing pale yellow pajamas with feet and a handy-dandy flap in the back,

Lazy summer days, sitting high on the back steps, munching on a box of Cracker Jacks,

Following my daddy around but when I tired, he carried me on his shoulders or hip,

And regularly falling asleep in church while playing with my daddy’s interesting tie clip.

My memories include…

Watching my mother and grandmother put a chicken in a dress and laughing until they cried,

Playing house in a concrete water trough 100-years-old, playing on swings, seesaw and slide,

Sitting in the cool grass on a warm summer night to make wishes on distant stars,

Playing a child’s version of a safari by collecting flickering fireflies in glass jars,

Watching my little sister busily drive her John Deere pedal tractor all about,

Finding out that although yummy, the juice stain from a fresh peach wouldn’t come out,

Brightly colored gumballs and cold five cent Cokes, really special treats at the local store,

And how the little bell jingled each time anyone opened that emporium’s front door.

My memories include…

Big family gatherings that included my dad’s brothers and sisters, all eleven of them,

With their wives and husbands and all of my first cousins, their little children,

Swinging on a homemade swing my dad fashioned on the clothesline post,

Wondering on Halloween night if there’s really such a thing as a goblin or a ghost,

Splashing around on a hot summer day in a dark green and yellow inflatable pool,

My mother filling up her pink station wagon with local kids for Vacation Bible School,

My Aunt Goldie teaching my Sunday School class, my first Bible that was small and white,

And the day trip down to Baltimore when Daddy offered us a whole quarter to be quiet.

My memories include…

Getting all dressed up on a Saturday to go shopping in Hanover town,

Riding our horses and once almost being thrown to the ground,

Impatiently waiting for the next issue of Highlight’s for Children to arrive by mail,

A snow storm that kept the schools closed, quietly listening to my dad tell a big tall tale,

Eating a jar of olives that made a horrid ache in my little girl belly,

Picking dewberries on a hot summer day for Mom to make homemade jelly,

A big old Pennsylvania farmhouse with 18 rooms to explore,

And giggling when my daddy fell asleep in church and began to snore.

My memories include…

Watching in awe as my Aunt Sue led singing in church with a voice pure and sweet,

Sweltering summer days and nights with a lone box fan that only stirred the heat,

Losing a gold ring in the leaves one fall day and finding it when spring came about,

Praying each night that I would one day soon become a Girl Scout,

Convincing my sister God was the twinkling red light from a plane in the night sky,

And then feeling just a little guilty when she ran down the stairs with a scream and a cry;

Loving the homemade waffles, French fries and Rice Krispies Treats my mother made,

And the white buck shoes I wore proudly throughout the entire fourth grade.

My memories include…

Long summer road trips taken down south to see family in Carolina and Tennessee,

And then sitting with kinfolk under shade trees, sipping big glasses of sweet iced tea.

Christmas vacation trips to visit my grandmother living in the far off Sunshine State,

Noticing the different kinds of cars with their distinctly different license plates,

Playing childhood games like Drop the Hankie, London Bridge and Ring ‘round the Rosy,

Walks along the lane and stopping to pluck anything that vaguely resembled a posy,

My first friend Barbara, our little girl giggling, spending our pennies for candy at recess,

And in the winter, a wood stove in the kitchen that kept things cozy when I got dressed.

My memories include…

Sticking my head in the staircase railing, and Daddy literally saving my neck and head,

Skinned knees, the comfort of Mom’s touch with a Band-Aid for the wounds that bled,

Getting caught talking in Mrs. Rohrbaugh’s class, and having to stand in the corner of the room,

Watching the school janitor sweep the wide hallways with the biggest ever broom,

A long walk from the bus stop wearing a red dress and the bull that gave me a fright,

Causing me to run upstairs where my grandmother and mother dried my tears and held me tight;

Pulling carrots from the garden; having funerals for dead bugs; a little red calf I named Susie,

And spinning around and around in the wide upstairs hall until I felt all woozy.

My memories include…

My mother sewing at the old treadle machine situated at the end of the upstairs hall,

Words of caution to be watchful when I went back downstairs, being most careful not to fall,

Reading the stories about Dick, Jane, Mother, Father and their little dog named Tag

Learning, by heart, the Pledge of Allegiance to our country and our American flag,

Thinking my feet were tan, but Mother, soap and a washcloth proved it was just dirt,

Trying to keep a stiff upper lip by holding back tears when my tender feelings were hurt,

Feeling embarrassed when I told my Aunt Alma the tall tale that I wanted three blind mice,

And knowing something good was baking when the house smelled of cinnamon and allspice.

My memories include…

Proudly carrying a metal Dale Evans and Roy Rogers Thermos and lunchbox,

Wearing a heavy winter coat, woolen clothes and dark green knee-high socks,

Having a brand new frock to wear, especially a Cinderella labeled Easter dress,

Staring intently at myself in the mirror because I felt like a real living princess,

Loving the smell of the white leather upholstery in my parents’ big ol’ yellow Cadillac,

Trembling in fear from the booming sound of thunder and lightening bolt’s loud crack,

Ice cream sandwiches made with fresh, hot waffles at carnivals and the bigger York Fair,

And Mother carefully clipping out the chewing gum stuck in my long and curly hair.

Memory Lane is not really a place, but a gentler time long, long ago,

A time when there so many things about living that I didn’t know,

A time when feeling completely safe and being loved was all I knew,

So I oft’ retreat to that time for respite and renewal of things good and true .