Cutting It Short

Children in the days before

I have read or been told that as one grows its short-term memory weakens and long memory term becomes stronger. In recent years, through personal experience, I can tell you that this is a true statement. I have a sixty-six years age, which means she was born in 1943, half of the Second World War. I have still some of my ration stamps to prove it. At this age young people have trouble remembering what happened yesterday, but I can remember parts of my past as if it happened yesterday.

It occurred to me recently that, although I have memories that may have to be put on paper in case someone (although that is doubtful) could be interested now or in the future. I can remember during preadolescence and adolescence pick up some documents, photographs, letters, postcards, a small box made in paper and a partial college report card, all of them late 1800 to early 1900. These items were given to me by my grandmother, aunt and other older relatives before they passed away. All of these items related to the family. They made a deep impression on me then and for the rest of my life. So much so that the story was one of my college career. I have all the items yet and I'm still fascinated by history.

I was born in 1300 McPherson St., Oxford, Alabama. It was a home birth because most people could not afford a hospital these days and they were definitely among the "most people" group. The house was the place of my maternal grandfather it was, just before or just after he appeared in the world, updated with the addition of a bathroom doors and gas heating. Shortly after my birth, my mother and father moved to a small village mill house belonging to the textile mill where my father worked. About a year later divorced. It was an unpleasant and hostile divorce caused in me, I never knew my biological father. Although my mother remarried when I was fourteen, there was never a brother or sister. I have been told that my father remarried and have children, but have never seen.

As a child only seems to be a problem with some people or at least that is what the psychologist today we seem to believe. I, for one, was happy being an only child because I never had to fight with anyone for attention, toys or just get to what I wanted. I am especially pleased that he had no brothers after watching my kids when they were growing and now my grown children.

My mother and I moved back in with my grandparents after the divorce, along with my aunt who is also divorced. So for the next thirteen years or less, that's where I grew up. My mother worked days in a local GE plant and she was to go out much at night. This left me to consider more or less by the grandmother and in his first grandchild, I came up with a good deal. This is not to say that my grandmother was a breeze. He had a hard life married to a merchant horses, the moon shiner peddler of fruits and vegetables.

My mother tells the story of the time living in a hut in a rural area near Oxford. It seems she was old enough and tall enough to look out the window when one evening he saw his father running down the dirt road, stop at the mailbox and put something in it. He then went running down the road. Mother told his mother what he had seen. Mom went to look and came back with a dead rabbit and a note. The note said "Here is the dinner-revenuers will hit the Georgia and still be back as soon as possible." My grandmother took care of the expenses and their three children through taking in washing and ironing. The grandfather had about two months later.

Early childhood is not clear because of repeated stories I said of specific events, like coming home from my uncle Jim in the front after the war, I pushed my chair back from the table strong enough to hit a tank in a cabinet in my head, a younger playmate to death and one side of older child in the street saying that there was a Dad Noel. I think I actually remember, but I'm not sure. Therefore, the details of this point will start about six years and first grade.

As the money was generally short at home I have never attended any preschool class and therefore was not used to order and discipline. I do not feel comfortable with adult strangers, such as a teacher. On my first day of school and I remember clinging to mourn my mother. Later that day I remember too ashamed to tell the teacher that I had to go to the bathroom and ended up peeing in his pants. To say the least, was a delicate moment for a child of six years of age.

My childhood was the most utopian and exemption from the obligation to attend school could not have been foolish better. I lived on a street where there were many other children to play with. Our street was near the end of construction for many years and I can remember when the dirt road in front of the house was being paved. We have lived at the foot of a hill that was mostly uncut forest and undeveloped. This made for many hours of exploration and play cowboys and Indians, and the war, according to how many of we were not in the group that day. There was an outcropping of rocks at the top who made a great strength.

When I was young, say five to seven years old, one of my favorite games of the past was to play house with one or other of the two girls with whom I was closest friends. My grandfather had an old barn behind the house which had fallen more or less obsolete. The girls and I climbed to the attic and pretend it was our home. The girls usually brought a doll to spoil our children as we decorate the place and the best way possible with what pieces of used furniture, wooden boxes, bushel baskets, chair and all that could steal. I think I've been happier in the company of women since those days.

When I was a bit more on another occasion great past was bicycling. As with our other summer activities, it was not unusual to leave the house at 8 am on Saturday morning during school or any day during the holidays Summer, for a bike ride all day or any other activity and not show again until almost sunset. It was a much safer world in the semi-rural village America at the time. He also liked to play polo with the bicycle as any suit our horses long enough to reach the ground to hit the ball. Palos in moving bicycle spokes made for many painful losses in the skin and blood in this game.

That was not as fun as building race cars any material that could scrounge up and racing them on the narrow road beside my house. These devices generally collapsed or uncontrollable and entered a ditch halfway down. Therefore, a greater extraction of skin and the blood was the usual result.

When I was still in a stroller for my grandmother from time to when I have the Oxford Centre for film productions looking only to see Roy Rodgers, Gene Autry, Tom Mix, Johnny Mc Brown, Lash Larue, and the team of Red Rider and Little Beaver, to name a few.

When I was old enough to walk to the city my mother would give me fourth on Saturday. With this I could go to a movie and then get an ice pop at the drugstore and buy a comic book. When I needed you to give me another quarter to get a haircut. I think the cost of these items are a bit more these days. Twenty-three U.S. dollars I just paid for hair and beard trimming last Saturday. I'm getting used to it I think, I just cried for a few minutes on this occasion.

Another great pastime of the boys was the war games. The girls always in another place I had to go or something else most important thing to do. There was a garden area at the rear of the site where granddads sometimes planted corn, tomatoes and / or other vegetables. We were not allowed play the field until after the crop had been harvested. As soon as I got the time OK was to collect as many children as possible and take sides. The field was full of clots excellent size ground launch.

There were ditches on both ends of the plot and the distance was just for children eight to twelve years to launch. We used tied bushel basket lids as shields to the arms and clotted in his hand advanced, maneuvered, and defended our side of the field. We defended from our respective trench as required when attacks occur and was low on the top for our own frontages. If someone from time to when he caught a clot in his head that only made the game more interesting in real danger of being hurt.

When things got boring in the house I would get my grandfather to let me tag along as an assistant in the traffic on your route. The grandfather was a man of the Hudson car and there was always a van Hudson. Would farmer's market in Birmingham and load up on fresh vegetables and fruits that were in the station or that he thought might be more marketable to the rural wives in their routes. It was a hard job hot in summer, out on the roads unpaved rural Alabama – no air conditioning in those days.

All women and few men who leave their homes when the horn sounded grandfather. They recognized that sound and happy for the comfort at home of vegetables and fresh fruit (and sometimes nuts). They also happy to have someone to talk for a few minutes in your day alone. My favorite part of day on the road was when we stopped at one of the old country stores to obtain a chocolate bar or chips and either a large orange or grape soda or maybe a drink Orange Crush. I wonder if you still do. Grandpa was always faithful to his ginger Buffalo Rock ale and usually a moon pie.

Like everyone else with my childhood slipped year after year, pushed by hormones, peer pressure, education and parents. In my childhood slipped away from their activities were quickly replaced by other activities and interests such as football and girls. Those who never replaced by anything, especially in the South.

Overall I think that increasing the capacity of the long-term memory is an advantage in the process aging. It's good to be able to remember clearly the young and the people and places and even pets who helped form what you are today. Although it is great to think and remember, I would not go back and relive those years.

They were not all great moments and there are usually a lot of pain physical and mental health associated with childhood. I have yet not so fond memories of my grandmother made me go to the bushes in the backyard and break a switch. Then switch is used to hit me several times on my bare legs of any misconduct or failure had caused. Fifty years later and still cringe at such memories. Yes, it was a different world in the forties and fifties. I think I like my life now as well or better than when I was a kid outdoors. One reason in particular jumps immediately to mind – the air conditioning.

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About the Author

Mr Green has a B.S. Degree form Jacksonville State University (AL) and a J.D. Degree from The Birmingham School of Law. He served in the U.S. Army from 1967 through 1987, 5 years of which were on active duty serving in Vietnam and Germany for a total of 3 years. Retired as A Reserve Major in the Military Intellegence Branch. He has worked with NASA, Defense Contracts Administration Service and USAID. He Served outside the the United States as a Civilian for approximatly 8 years mostly in the Middle East. He also worked for the University of Alabama at Birmingham AL for approximately 1 year. He is now retired.

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