Small Town Life
There's a real tendency, when one is attending a wake, to review things.
The feelings of nostalgia sweep in quickly.
Over the weekend we attended two wakes.
One for a lifelong friend who was almost a family member.
The other for a beloved aunt who played a huge part in the formative years.
At the wake there were remembrances of lives well lived, of course, but the conversation drifted to the old North Collins days.
Life was certainly different.
The entire town was like home to me and a whole bunch of other kids.
"I could walk into your home and open the fridge, without question," I said to Tracy (A beautiful friend who I've known since she was about a year old).
"We always knew who was making sauce on Sunday. I'd stand at the big pot of sauce with your brother and we'd dip bread in and eat it for about an hour."
My siblings would join me at Grandma and Grandpa's.
"Grandma is making marinara!"
Would ring through our house at 10:30 in the morning and we'd be seated at Grandma's table by noon.
I also distinctly recall leaving school some days and heading over for pasta.
It was that way for years and years and years.
"All of our parents were friends," Tracy said. "So all the kids were welcome in everybody else's home."
We both said, at the same time:
"It's not like that anymore."
"We never locked our doors," Tracy said.
I laughed.
I distinctly recall walking in their home, checking each bedroom and figuring out that no one was there.
"Your Dad used to wash my car when I pulled it into the driveway!"
I often try and explain it to my kids.
We hardly know our neighbors now.
We don't go to other people's homes to hang out.
My kids talk to their friends over a line, or type them messages on a phone.
No one is just walking into anyone's home anymore.
"We had it good," Tracy said.
I couldn't agree more.
I wouldn't have changed a thing.
My Aunt Mary Lou watched all of us a lot of days. We treated her just as we would our own parents.
We respected our friends moms and dads.
I can't say that my kid's friends aren't respectful, and I do feed them every chance I get.
My home is welcome to them...
...they just don't stop by very often..
The feelings of nostalgia sweep in quickly.
Over the weekend we attended two wakes.
One for a lifelong friend who was almost a family member.
The other for a beloved aunt who played a huge part in the formative years.
At the wake there were remembrances of lives well lived, of course, but the conversation drifted to the old North Collins days.
Life was certainly different.
The entire town was like home to me and a whole bunch of other kids.
"I could walk into your home and open the fridge, without question," I said to Tracy (A beautiful friend who I've known since she was about a year old).
"We always knew who was making sauce on Sunday. I'd stand at the big pot of sauce with your brother and we'd dip bread in and eat it for about an hour."
My siblings would join me at Grandma and Grandpa's.
"Grandma is making marinara!"
Would ring through our house at 10:30 in the morning and we'd be seated at Grandma's table by noon.
I also distinctly recall leaving school some days and heading over for pasta.
It was that way for years and years and years.
"All of our parents were friends," Tracy said. "So all the kids were welcome in everybody else's home."
We both said, at the same time:
"It's not like that anymore."
"We never locked our doors," Tracy said.
I laughed.
I distinctly recall walking in their home, checking each bedroom and figuring out that no one was there.
"Your Dad used to wash my car when I pulled it into the driveway!"
I often try and explain it to my kids.
We hardly know our neighbors now.
We don't go to other people's homes to hang out.
My kids talk to their friends over a line, or type them messages on a phone.
No one is just walking into anyone's home anymore.
"We had it good," Tracy said.
I couldn't agree more.
I wouldn't have changed a thing.
My Aunt Mary Lou watched all of us a lot of days. We treated her just as we would our own parents.
We respected our friends moms and dads.
I can't say that my kid's friends aren't respectful, and I do feed them every chance I get.
My home is welcome to them...
...they just don't stop by very often..
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