Remember back in the 60s when everyone was building bomb shelters? They planned to move the family into them and live there for months until it was time to come out safely.
We didn’t have the nuclear war everyone was expecting back then, so we didn’t try all living in one small space for weeks at a time. We’re trying it now however. Getting a taste of what it’s like when the world outside the door is scary.
Lucky for us, the grocery stores are still open, the pizza joint still delivers, Netflix is streaming, and your FaceTime conversations with your best friend are still a go.
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My town’s little library had a children’s section where I devoured books like The Bobbsey Twins and biographies of famous people like Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley. Somehow I moved from there to the adult section where I started reading completely inappropriate books I seldom understood. I skipped all the great children’s stories like “The Secret Garden” and “Little Women” until I was an adult reading to children.
A self-made education is a spotty thing.
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Isn’t it funny how sweethearts diminish each other by calling their loved one “Babe”? One the other hand, small children are give names that make them seem bigger like “little man.” Teenagers are told to act grown up. No wonder we’re all so confused, Babe.
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I heard someone singing “The Teddy Bears Picnic” today, which is a really old song I loved as a kid. It set me to wondering what the first song I ever learned was. Probably some nursery rhyme. I have a particular fondness for the one that goes “4 and 20 blackbirds baked in a pie.” Perhaps that was the first song I heard or learned form my mother. Is it even possible to recall the first song you ever learned?
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It’s about that time when we’ll all start cooking traditional family favorites. One of mine is what I call Grandma’s apples. She boiled them down in a sugar syrup laced with red hots and a bit of red food coloring to make cinnamon apples that were sweet and tart and soft enough to run a fork through. Plump and juicy and bright on a plate, they always mean holiday time to me. They remind me of long ago meals with family.
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I remember the first balloon fiesta I attended. It was 1978. It was a mass ascension morning. It was cold and the grass was wet, drenching my feet and socks. When the balloons began inflating it was the most thrilling sight I’d ever seen. The giant, bright colors towering overhead were thrilling. The sound of the gas burners (and the blessed heat for those standing nearby) was thrilling. Being surrounded by nothing but bright color was thrilling. Watching the balloons gently lift into the sky was thrilling. Balloon fiesta never gets old. Mass ascensions never get old. I’ve been back many times and I’m always thrilled by the experience all over again.
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Are you old enough to remember when the task of doing the laundry was so huge that you set aside an entire day just for that? No, you probably aren’t. You probably always lived with a washer and a dryer in your house and you did laundry whenever you had a minute free to start it going.
These days laundry day is any day, any time. I thought we were going to have single use paper clothes by now. What an environmental nightmare that would have been. Dodged a bullet with that one.
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