Reminiscing

Having been raised in the good ‘ol South, back in the 1950’s, things were much simpler and laid back; not so much chaos like we have today with drugs, disrespect and degradation. My first school-house, for example, was a one-room school that taught five or six grades how to do the reading, writing and ‘rithmetic. I was 5 then. I distinctly remember one of the “upper grade classman” reading to me from a kids book about a Little Yellow Taxi” . It had a picture inside the book of a little kid getting into the old Taxi to take a ride. The “upper grade classman”, in his “role model” role, made a “funny” by pointing to the little kid’s butt and making some comment, trying to get me to laugh, I suppose. I don’t know why I remember that particular day, except to think I probably DID think it was funny!

It’s an irony that even today; guys are still pointing to “backsides” and making jokes of it. In some ways we haven’t quite grown up, have we?

Next to the school was a cow pasture that bordered the intersection of two dirt roads. When the summers were hot and dry for too long, a passing car would stir up the dust so much that it would take half an hour to settle it down. The trees growing along these dirt roads would have their leaves coated with so much dust that it hid most of the “green”. The “big boys”, shirtless farmer’s kids in their bib overalls, straw hats, barefoot and bare handed, would gather in that pasture and play baseball. Rarely would any one of them own a leather baseball glove, as these were “poor folks”. It was always funny to me to watch one of the basemen catch a line drive, then juggle the ball into the air for a quick shake of his hand and a quick blow from his mouth to attempt to cool down the “hot catch” before burning it to first or second base for the “out”. All the “cool” guys used to chew on a piece of dry Johnson grass, like a toothpick today. I always imitated them by doing the same things, as I stood back out of the way watching the big boys play ball.

I suppose those days are gone except for the memories. To me they are still “alive”, in my mind. On occasion I relax and drift back in time to replay those old ball games. I can still see the field, the road, the grass, and the overalls; hear the sounds, feel the sun and watch the, now, faceless, players shaking off that “hot catch”.

The good ‘ol days of baseball….nothing like the game you would see today.