Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
Time is racing by fast enough, but do we have to race right along with it?
Seems the world has forgotten a lot, those evenings out on the front porch after dinner, just listening and relaxing as the birds chirp their good nights. In my yard it's usually the robins that are the last ones to bid us
It's a bit sad to say a lot of our parks now are really not safe to stroll about as dusk falls or to push the small fry in the swings.
A dear friend one evening chuckled, "It may sound silly to you, but one of my favorite memories that's been on my mind lately is that old coal bin in my grandmother's basement and how I was there one day. I must have been 4 or 5 when they delivered her a load of coal and the racket that stuff made as it spilled down a long trough into that little room.
Then later when I said, "Gee Grandma your house is always so warm and nice, but I didn't know you could burn rocks."
Now, when I grew up I remember the many fun trips (as I grew older it became work) for us kids going to the timber to cut the firewood for the winter after the crops were laid bye. But Dad always had a load of coal brought in just in case. A little of that seemed to last a long time. A big lump of coal could hold fire overnight.
Our school burned coal -- our big guys, the seventh-and eighth-grade boys, had to keep the stove fired up.
Sorry if I've bored you this week. I know a lot of you share the same memories, but have you shared those days with your grandchildren, those fun days, those hard times, those good unhurried times, those long evenings around the heater or fireplace.
Now they just flip buttons and switches.
I think old-time resorts should be all over the land, a Disneyland-type of resort in which you had to rough it. Now there just might be such, if there is and you know it please let me know.
Do find more time to just stop and watch the world go by now. Bye and God bless you all.
-- Aunt Norie, can be reached at P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie 66086, or at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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