My earliest memories were at a time when we lived on base at Cheatham Annex, in Williamsburg, VA. My father worked as a civilian guard on base. I was an only child, and the delight of my mother's heart. I remember sleeping in my crib until I was too big to be able to sleep in it another night. I had this stuffed animal that I called "Puppy" (for obvious reasons) and I slept with him every night. There were many apartments at Cheatham, most of them housing at least several children, which gave me a wonderfully diverse selection of playmates. Mama & Daddy only had one car, and Daddy had to use it to drive to work. Which left Mama and me to remain at home except the one day a week we went to the grocery store. That was alright with me, because that left me with six days a week to have the fresh outdoors with cornflower blue skies and white marshmallow clouds, and the sweet summer breezes to play in. Some days my friends and I would take off to a small forest behind the apartments where the canopy of trees provided shade for us.....under the tree branches we would hear the chirping of birds, and somewhere in the distance we could hear scrambling of leaves as squirrels and racoons lived their lives in secret, scampering from one tree to another. And the best feature of the forest, was a little stream whose base was lined with smooth, cool rocks. We would come to the stream with joyous anticipation, take off our shoes and pile them neatly next to the ferns, and then hold hands and gently put our feet into the clear, moving water. And we would walk the length of the stream until it dropped down an embankment. The still, hot air of summer was upon us, but the cool, clean water of the stream seemed to cool us off like the breeze of a gentle fan.
Some days my girlfriends and I would meet alongside the back of our apartments, and decide to go roller skating. We all had the old-fashioned ball-bearing roller skates that had a key made to fit them. We would hold hands and spend the complete afternoon skating the length of our sidewalks. Back and forth, our feet in rhythm with one another.
Several times a year the fire department would come to a hydrant in front of our apartment and release the water inside of the hydrant. There was a large ditch beside the hydrant. All of us kids would gather around-sufficiently out of the way of the firemen, and watch as the water gushed out of the hydrant. We watched the water rush out and completely fill the ditch beside it. Our hearts beat a little faster, knowing that as soon as the fire truck left to make its way back to the station, we would all scatter like chickens, rushing to our individual apartments to each put on our bathing suits. And we would return to the now filled "pond" to splash and play in the water like it was a true "swimming hole." And we had more fun than grown-ups who now take off to cruise the Caribbean! We would hold our noses, extend our arm and hold up our pointer finger to show that we were "okay." We would dog paddle, and tread water in place.
On days when one of us could discover a sliver of chalk, someone would draw a hop-scotch board in the parking lot. We would scan the lot looking for just the right stone, and spend hours playing "hop-scotch." We would make up different tasks on various blocks that we had to complete successfully, or we could no longer advance in the game.
After suppertime was over and we'd had our baths in the evening, our parents would sometimes allow us to go back outside, for just a brief time. This was a special time of day, because they would find an old jar with a lid (and poke holes in the lid with a can-opener) and we would be allowed to quietly catch fireflies together. No running or acting like "wild-cats" as some parents said. We would get a jar full of these magical creatures that could create a small light on the end of their bodies. Mama would always allow me to place my jar on my chest-of-drawers, so as I snuggled up with "puppy" as I laid in my crib, I could watch the tiny lights turn on and off until I drifted off to sleep. The year was 1956. Air-conditioning was something I had not heard of. None of our apartments had air-conditioning, and the one car we had certainly did not have any. I don't remember if it was even an option back then.
Some nights were so hot and humid, that mama would sometimes invite me to come into her room and sleep. Daddy worked "the grave-yard shift" and so it would be just mama and me. We only had one fan in the house, and it was a window fan in mama and daddy's room. The bed with the covers was too hot to sleep on, so mama would go to the little closet where she kept sheets and towels and pillow-cases, and gather a clean sheet to place on the rug on the floor. She would place a pillow on the sheet-one for her and one for me. I can remember the moon-light coming down on the floor where we lay, and hear the stillness of the hot air, and the song of the peepers, and off to sleep I would go. So happy to be able to sleep with Mama, and her fan.
Several times a week, mama would give me a nickle and off to the canteen I would go with my friends. I knew I could only purchase one thing.....so when the screen door slammed behind my friends and me, my mind was already thinking of how I would spend my nickle. Most afternoons in the hot summertime, I would invariably go to the Coke-a-Cola cooler, try to lift the heavy lid, and carefully select a Coca-Cola, walk carefully to the counter to pay for it, and return to the cooler to use the bottle opener to remove the sharp edged top from the cool bottle. My friends and I would just walk aimlessly around the apartment complex, sipping the cool, delicious caramel colored liquid a little bit at a time, to make it last as long as possible.
There was a small, country church (white, with a steeple) behind our apartments, that sat on the bank of the York River. We walked to church every Sunday for the seven years my family and I lived at Cheatham, to attend Sunday School and service on Sunday mornings. Again, in the hot summertime there was no air-conditioning, so they lifted the large, heavy windows opened in the hopes that perhaps there would be a breeze to move the hot, stagnant air around. They had a children's choir, of which mama and daddy made sure I attended, and on the Sunday mornings that we sang at service, the children all had 1/2 robes made out of a white cotton sheet, which was hemmed neatly alongside the bottom and the neck, with a royal blue ribbon that tied at the neck. We would stay after service sometimes, to practice the songs we would sing for the congregation. I remember watching mama from the front of the church, as we sang our songs to Jesus. Mama's eyes would always mist up, as she smiled at me singing. I loved going to service with my parents. I have a distinct memory of singing "In the Garden" while sitting beside mama and daddy, and I could hear the songbirds outside the church window, seeming to sing with us as well.
My memory comes back to the present day, and I again think of the article I read about parents trying so hard to make their children's childhoods "magical." Expensive tablets, cell phones, X-Box games.....all costing hundreds of dollars.....buying them incredibly expensive clothes that they will outgrow in 6 months....hand bags and dolls that cost more than items I purchase for myself as a grown woman. More and more.....bigger and better.....involving their children in so many activities that it takes both parents running around like chickens with their heads cut off, to be able to stagger events so mom and dad can both use their time driving their children in different directions to different activities every single day. I think back to the simplicity and wonder and awe I felt each morning as mama made sure I was well-washed and teeth brushed, fed a wholesome breakfast and allowed to go outside to play until she called me inside at lunch-time. I saw the beauty of God's creation in the forest with the ferns and the trees and the stream. My creative mind was unleashed as she laid down a quilt for me on the ground underneath the trees, with my coloring books and crayons......I would color until I was too sleepy to color anymore, roll over on my back, and look at the beautiful blue of the sky and the white puffy clouds, and watched as they slowly moved and changed their shape into something else.
Parent's cannot give their child a "magical" childhood. God gives that to them, and it is up to the parents to get out of the way, and let their child discover the quiet beauty of the forest, the joy and celebration of friendship, of not needing money to satisfy the creative fun of swimming in a ditch filled with emptied water from a hydrant. The pleasure out of using a new crayon that still has a sharp tip on it.
I remember going downtown once each summer when school was out, and Mama taking me to Roses and buying me 5 new sun-suits that were .88 cents a piece, and wearing them fresh and clean and of colors that I loved. The total joy of having it finally being warm enough to not to have to wear shoes, and going bare-foot all summer. I didn't want any high priced shoes. In fact, I didn't want any shoes at all!
If I could pass along a word of advice to the parents of today, I would tell them......SLOW DOWN. Just shush! Let your children be children. Let them discover things on their own. Let them take in the beauty of the world, the color of the sky, what it's like in the springtime to build a kite made of newspaper with your daddy, and go into a huge open field and watch it soar into the air, riding the currants as it will. Let them sweat and experience the heat, only to find such sweet reprieve in the breeze of a window-fan. Let them fill their lungs with fresh air, and feel the warmth of summer's sunshine on their bodies, and when they've been bathed after supper, to go quietly outdoors for their last activity of the day, with a jar w/ a lid poked full of holes to catch their lightning bugs. Let them know it doesn't take money to be happy. It takes wonder, and natural experiences, and singing children's hymns to Jesus in front of the church as they lay down the stepping stones to an adult world that will find them, all too soon.
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