NEVER GROWING OLD

~ Welcome to Heartwarmers ~
http://www.heartwarmers.com
The best thing to happen to mornings since the Sun!

Your morning thought for the day:
There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.
-- Celia Thaxter


None of us are getting any younger, that's for sure. But our
memories -- particularly memories of our summers when we were kids --
can work wonders. Nothing can stop us from being young at heart!
When you read Kathy's story today, you'll no doubt think back
to special times when summers seemed endless and there was always an
adventure around every corner. (What? You didn't have video games
and couldn't text your friends? Oh no!)

Meanwhile, we'll be sending our publications during the day on
Wednesday, rather than Tuesday evening, to prevent them from getting
lost in the all of the overnight junk email. Hopefully, you'll be
able to find us a littler easier in the future.

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NEVER GROWING OLD
by Kathy Whirity

It was a question that had me asking a question of my own.
A recent article I read posed the question: If you could relive
a summer memory what would it be?
On this lazy summer's afternoon the musings of my middle age
mentality have me asking a question of my own. How can you choose
just one?
A trip down memory lane brought me back to a tree lined street
in the Roseland community -- a quaint and quiet neighborhood where we
lived until I was about 12 years old.
Across the railroad tracks from our home was an indoor pool. My
brothers, sister and I would often go swimming there.
One afternoon, as I ran across the tracks from the "Pump" as we
called it, I saw my dad in the backyard, the contents of a kiddie
pool strewn about the lawn.
Patience was not a virtue that my dad possessed, which is why
our pool was the only pool in the neighborhood whose liner was
clamped down with clothes pins.
When filled to the rim the shallow water reached right below my
knees. But it didn't stop us from splish-splashing away many hot
summer days.
My dad also loved having barbecues, though he was far from a
genius at the grill. He'd make a grand production but the result
would always yield the same result -- hamburgers the size and
consistency of charcoal and hot dogs that ended up resembling beef
jerky.
I do remember his milk shakes being the best. He'd dump a half
gallon of ice cream in the big green mixing bowl and add milk and
chocolate syrup. Then he'd mix it all with the hand mixer and ladle
it into the tall fancy glasses usually reserved for company. Dad
tried his best despite his dysfunction in cooking. And, besides, it
wasn't about the food as much as it was about the togetherness of
family.
Sunday mornings were always special when grandma spent the
weekend. She'd stand at the stove, in her flowered duster, and make
us German pancakes. They were crepes we'd spread with butter,
sprinkle with sugar, roll up and eat. They were so good!
It's been more than 40 years since I've tasted one of her
breakfast specialties, but all I have to do is close my eyes and I
can see her standing there at the stove. With that memory, the word
"comfort" food takes on a whole new meaning.
Long car rides were also an adventure we'd do as a family on
summer evenings. Our dad would do the driving while we kids would
sit in the back seat, with all the windows rolled down as our hair
would blow carefree in the soft, warm wind of the season. We'd cap
the evening off with a trip to the penny candy store where everything
really was a penny.
Many a mid summer's morning you could find mom standing at the
ironing board. She'd fill a Pepsi bottle with water and attach a big
plastic flower petal, with tiny holes, to the top of the bottle.
She'd sprinkle the clothes with water, wipe her brow with a hankie as
she'd continue pressing out the wrinkles on clothes, long before the
concept of permanent press apparel became popular.
Our bed time treat rarely varied. After baths were taken, mom
would place a pint of ice cream on the table. She always sliced it
into 4 perfect slices, one for each of us.
The question the author posed about choosing one memory to relive
has opened a flood gate of memories too many to choose from.
If I had a choice, I think I'd rather opt for one more day to
spend with my family in that house on 104th place in Roseland. To
smell the Lillies of the Valley that grew wild and untouched in the
front yard. To catch lightning bugs in the backyard and bike ride
around the block, with my little brother teasing me and my friends
because we couldn't leave the block.
What I wouldn't give, as an adult, to sit on the old back porch
and sip a milk shake my dad had made especially for me.
To laugh with my grandma and to have a chat with my mom -- if
she could be as she was and I could be who I am now. (I'd have a lot
of thanking to do.)
It's a gift to reclaim a sense of our summer's youth. While we
can't relive the past, it's a blessing to know, that through
memories, we never really grow old.

-- Kathy Whirity

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Kathy is a newspaper columnist who shares her sentimental musings on
family life. She is also a contributor to the Chicken Soup for the
Soul book series. She and her husband, Bill, live in Chicago. You
can visit her website at: http://www.kathywhirity.com
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