A Trip On Memory's Ship

perhaps it was a day like this on the courthouse square
that brought forth an old man's memories

January often brought tales of days of yore from my octogenarian grandfather "Golly" in his weekly newspaper column.

January 1961 – 

January with cold weather and plenty of snow and then a thaw. Time for an oldster to dream. Dream of the past, of the present and of the future.

Three quarters of a century ago brings the joyous memory of new leather boots with red tops and copper-trimmed toes – a proud possession of a small boy.

No TV, no radio and no phonograph – not even a telephone – but maybe a copy of Robinson Crusoe was available or some of J. Fenimore Cooper's Leather Stocking Tales.

Once in a while a so-called "blood and thunder awful" pamphlet "Buffalo Bill" "The James Boys" or "Old Nick Carter" – would add variety if not refinement to the store of knowledge of a growing lad.

During the long evenings there would be available a dish of apples, a pan of popcorn, and upon a really rare occasion, home made molasses candy.

Warm comfort came from the big chunk stove, and there was a feeling of security in the living room, while snow was piled in high drifts by a howling blizzard.

In time came a moderation in the temperature. The sun came out brightly. Farmers with teams and bobsleds "broke out" the roads. Then would come cutters or dickies with driving horses, and sleigh bells would jingle merrily.

A thaw followed by a freeze would form a coating of ice over the snow, and out came the home made schooners with barrel staves for runners.

... and this from 1960

"Let's take a trip on Memory's ship"*

Let's hold a party – a picnic party – we'll blend memory of the past with imagination of the future...

During these January days of drizzly rain, mixed with sleet, snow, visibility near zero, and not a peep of sunshine, we need a picker-upper if it is only a dream –

I can see as I close my eyes, nodding daffodils, golden in the warm spring sunshine. There are spring beauties breaking through the carpet of leaves. Nature is awakening.

There is a sweet music in the gentle soughing of the new and tender foliage of the trees. Harmonizing with it is the buzz of insects and bees seeking nectar. An early Song Sparrow may add his joyous song, delighted to return with his mate to build a nest and rear a family. A Bull Frog may add his Basso from a distance to the medley of nature's symphony. The happy brook babbles over bright pebbles as it murmurs a background. Spring, gentle Spring!

That tin can, blackened over many fires, appears and is put in use over a small blaze of tinder dry sticks that snap and crackle, and mingle their odor pleasingly to scents of the woodland.

The basket is opened. The tantalizing odor of home-baked beans mingles with the aroma of rich coffee. Jaded appetites awaken, whetted by the warmth of the sun and the clean air from the mountains, and ample justice is meted out to the contents of the picnic basket.

Now let's do some resting and loafing and let the sumptuous repast settle. Happiness, joy, contentment.

Good it is that dreams cost nothing, otherwise I would be entirely broke. I dream of the past and a dream of the future. I dream of friends no longer seen except in memory, and of those I see now and hope to see in the time ahead.

Dreams – Life would surely be dreary for an older person if he or she could not recall happy experiences and joys of the days that can never come again.

So let the skies be dark, let rain and sleet and snow fall, let Winter do his worst - I can dream!

*I had to look up that snippet of verse and found it came from a somewhat familiar song.

School Days (When We Were A Couple O Kids)
Words and music by Gus Edwards and Will D. Cobb

Verse 1: Nothing to do, Nellie Darling,
Nothing to do you say,
Let's take a trip on memory's ship,
Back to the by gone days
Sail to the old village school house,
Anchor outside the school door,
Look in and see, there's you and there's me,
A couple of kids once more

Chorus: School days, school days, dear old golden rule days,
Readin' and 'ritin' and 'rithmetic, Taught to the tune of a hick'ry stick,
You were my queen in calico, I was your bashful barefoot beau,
And you wrote on my slate, I love you Joe, When we were a couple of kids.