Growing older places, most of us are in an uncomfortable position, memory-wise, I mean. Of course, we would like to live as long as feasible. We would prefer to live out our final years in good and painless health.
How about you? For example, do you have good memories of growing up, say of your siblings? And what about memories of your parents? This is where the rubber hits the road, isn’t it? Perhaps you grew up in a strained relationship. All your memories are very difficult to think about let alone talk about. I am very sorry that your experience was less than positive. That being the case, maybe you are able to make the memories of the next generation better than your own.
I’m one of those who grew up in a steelworker’s home. I have the memory of just how excited my dad was the day he figured out that his net income would top ten thousand dollars per year for the first time. We were not wealthy, but we had enough income.
The memories emanating from that working family home were certainly a benefit to me and to my brother, Russell.
I remember the many times my dad said to me, “I want you to work hard and get a college education. I don’t want you to have to work out here eating this grease.”
When I recall family memories such as these, they come to me almost without thinking.
I had a young mother. I remember that she used to jokingly tell people that she and I, “grew up together.” One thing that I have told people that she and I would do together had to do with stepping aboard a trolley; no, I mean an old-fashioned street-trolley, the kind that traveled on tracks with an electric line above the vehicle powering it. We would ride the “trolley” the seven miles into the city’s theater district where we would pick out a movie to see, like two little friends. I wouldn’t trade my memories with my mother for anything.
Those were special times and special memories with a special lady.
You have your special memories, I’m sure. I hope they were as special as mine.
I’m sure I haven’t talked about anything you haven’t seen or experienced right here in The Garden of Eads or where you grew up. I will tell you about one other thing.
I mentioned my one and only brother, Russell. I ‘would share some of my memories that developed with Russ but decided not to embarrass my younger sibling when I began today’s column. Although I think I’ll tell you about the time Russ…oh my, that was the time he... Oh my goodness, you’ll think this is hilarious, oh, I just can’t…
