I made a statement on facebook a few days ago that as you get old you are fortunate enough to be able to live your childhood again if your mind is still clear.  I find I think a lot about my growing up years as I grow older.  Random events pop to mind and I find myself laughing out loud some time at these memories as I relive them.

One in particular comes to mind quite often.  I grew up in a small country village and only one store and a post office was there.  I remember in the heat of the summer we would go and sit under a shade tree by the post office to talk to the postmaster.  One summer it was 105 degrees.  And that was hot!  But I don't ever remember suffering from the heat when I was a child and I would run all day playing.

The store was the meeting place for everyone.  And on many Saturday nights we would sit on the porch, both black and white people (this was back in the days when people got along regardless of their race0  We would eat potted meat, sardines and crackers and drink cokes and all laugh and talk.  And yes, I do know that what I am about to say is not politically correct but it is not intended to offend anyone.  One of the blacks would say to the whites "We having a nigger supper, come and join us".  We would all spend hours there talking and no one tried to be mean or nasty to the others -- as I said people got along.  I had one special friend, a black woman who came and washed for us on an old washboard in the back yard on Mondays and boiled the clothes in an old iron pot and then hang them on the line to dry.  She would come back on Wednesday and iron them.  She used the old flat irons that  had to be heated by fire.  Boy did those clothes ever smell good and not a wrinkle in them.  One day my mother asked her how she planned to support herself wen she got too old to do this type work and she said "Sugar will take care of me--she say she will"  This was all she ever called me, from the time I was born until her death.  No matter what my mother cooked all she could get her to eat was cornbread with fried salt meat and the grease poured over it.  She died when she was about 60 or so due to a stroke.  When she had the stroke I sent flowers to the hospital but she died before she ever saw them so I told them to use them fro her funeral.  When the called and told me of her death, I cried like a child.  And true to my word as a child, I did help her as long as she lived and sent her money for her doctor bills and boxes of clothes.  In spite of being dirt poor she always had a smile and never looked like she was not happy.  Next to my mother and father, I loved her best of all.  Like I said, these were the times when life was good and no one had a "tude" or expected something for nothing as people now do.  You worked for what you got and were thankful for the job.

Yeah, I know I ramble and don't pay much attention to punctuation but they are just random thoughts that come in my head and I try to get them down while I am remembering them.

I had a wonderful childhood.  We didn't have a phone and I am thankful for that as it gave me more time to sit under a tree in the pasture and read.  I didn't have any electronic toys to play with but I had trees to climb and a little pond to fish in with bent pins and worms to catch the very small fish and then throw them back.  I had parents who knew the proper time to spank me with no one yelling child abuse at them.  Most of the 4 letter words I never heard of until I was an adult.  And all of these things I remember makes me more certain that I owe this to whatever success I have achieved in my life.

Thank you, Lord, for my childhood and for living long enough to remember how it was before the world went crazy,