Anything and nothing

Is there anything that rivals the tender goodness of a Twinkie? The golden snack cake and its creme filling that has graced my childhood lunch sacks and lunch boxes over the years has a warm place in my heart.

While other snack cakes have their place, there is just something about a Twinkie that is a kindly reminder of a friendlier time when people were not so complicated, or at least I didn't notice their complications, being a child at the time.

Then my mind recalls the telephones that had rotary dials where you were compelled to wait until the phone rewound to the start position before selecting the next number lest you find yourself speaking to a stranger instead of a friend.

And I think back to the time that I was a little girl going into the five and dime with my mother and being so short that I couldn't even see the toys on the counter unless she lifted me up or there was a stepstool.

The reality of time passing is part of the journey. I miss the things that remind me of times that were comfortable and gentle in their passages. Like the picnics and outings where the wind rushed along through the open car windows. Or the times when we would go fishing and come home to prepare and eat our fishes fresh from the river.

Sitting out on warm summer nights and making the attempt to count all of the stars in the skies above or playing "Freeze Tag" out on the lawn while the grownups chatted away about things that were in another language than that of childhood.

Sandlot baseball games where everyone got to play even if they weren't good and where no one stepped in to shore up your self esteem, but instead, let everyone take their lumps and learn from them.

Playing board games and card games until it was too dark to see even with the porch light on.

Taking turns being the fox for "Colored Eggs" or sitting on the steps to be a chicken that would run away to the safe base away from the grasping hands of the one picked to be the fox.

Simon Says and Mother May I. Red Rover, Red Rover and double dutch jump rope contests.

Listening to the tent revivals in the old cotton fields north of our house or going to the County Fair in buildings that have long since been gone into memory.

Eating cotton candy prepared by a man with an anchor tattoo on his arm during a time when one tattoo was still considered exotic because you could actually see it instead of it being hidden by his shirtsleeves.

Seeing the old men spit and whittle in front of the County Courthouse when you could still use the stairs to go watch the sessions of District Court before 9-11 made the whole world paranoid and fearful.

Walking along farm lanes with the old cattle dog that lolled about the barn waiting for a pat on the head or a nap in the shade when all of the children left for the day.

Sometimes I wonder just what memories we are leaving our children. They are no longer babies. That particular time has long since passed. But they are becoming adults and as such will be compelled to find their own way in the world.

Will they have memories that will sustain them during the hard times? Will the moments of their childhood bring them peace and a sense of permanence or will they simply be time that passed by on the way to another milestone and another candle on the cake?

Just a few random thoughts.