Memories from my Childhood . . .
Living in a small town where everybody knew your name. Everyone attending
a church on Sunday mornings.
Having our church choir’s picture on the cover of the South Carolina
Advocate.
All the boys playing football, basketball and baseball and all the girls
being either the cheerleaders or the girlfriends, or both.
The whole town attending football, basketball and baseball games.
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TODAY: Think about these words from St. Cyprian of Carthage,
the first African bishop martyr, who noted in 250 A.D. that Jesus
taught us to pray “Our Father” rather than “My Father.”
His explanation: “The teacher of Peace and master of unity
did not want prayer to be something individualistic and self-centered.
He who inculcated oneness wanted each one to pray for all, just
as He Himself bore all as One.”
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Grandmomma’s biscuits, fried cornbread, “hoecake,” pound
cake, divinity candy, cornbread dressing, plus ice-cold sweet tea, water
and milk. Granddaddy’s blessings, stories of the family and Old Ellenton.
Climbing and shaking pecan trees, then having to gather the pecans for
hours.
Jackson, South Carolina “Yard of the Month” award sign on our
front lawn.
Swimming in “Hollar Creek” where the water was so cold that
you would immediately get goose bumps from head to toe, plus see a snake
or two.
Playing baseball or basketball with the boys in the hot summer sun.
Eating sweet, fresh peaches from our own trees with real whipping cream.
Having the only regulation-sized basketball hoop in town with a paved
driveway. Meeting your friends at the U.S. Post Office after school.
Going to “Teen Town” on Saturday nights to dance to a jukebox.
Janis, Becky, Linda, Carla, Deborah, plus Randy, Sherrill, Jesse, Donald,
Jerry, Gene, and most important, Kevin.
The Beatles and the Beach Boys.
Daddy being on the elected Aiken County School Board, which meant that
he knew what had happened at school before I was able to explain it to
him.
Standing with my Mom when President John Kennedy spoke about the Cuban
missile crisis and watching her cry.
John F. Kennedy’s assassination.
Making pizza with my friends so we could pull an “all-nighter”
to get our English research papers typed with four typewriters on my kitchen
table until 3 a.m.
Having a pool table in our family room, seeing my home become a hangout
and watching my brother Bobby become very popular.
Thanksgiving and Christmas family dinners with the adults in the dining
room and the kids in the downstairs family room.
Brother Frank writing all over his bedroom walls with a crayon a few weeks
after we had moved into my parents’ custom-built, dream home.
Being told, by your Dad, that you could do anything that you wanted to
do and be anything that you wanted to be, even if you were a girl.
Realizing that your Dad would pay for you to attend any college but Clemson,
but knowing deep in your heart that he only wanted you to go to the University
of South Carolina.
Numerous family gatherings in Avera, Hazelhurst, and Atlanta, Georgia,
plus Columbia, South Carolina.
Church youth group, under the wonderful guidance of Patsy and Lawton Andrews,
that no one would ever miss — especially the trips to Myrtle Beach
every summer.
Tons of hugs and kisses.
Being loved no matter what.
Forever cherished memories.
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