May. 07, 2005 - 20:35 MDT

STILL THERE

The only time this doesn't happen to me is when I am driving the car. Any other time a curtain can be drawn on my present and the past comes somewhat into focus. Reminiscence is a country all of its own, and if one is on an even keel I think all paths are pleasant. Oh, sure there are bad memories locked away in a "private" file, only searched occasionally to help in solving a present problem.

I am remembering a summer evening of my boyhood, a Saturday evening to be exact. Not quite dark yet, but soon to be. We get into Mom and Dad's 1925 Studebaker coupe, that heavyweight mammoth and head for down town.

At about Alameda Avenue Dad turns west and then north on Broadway. It is dark by now and the electric signs are lit up. Big ones, on top of buildings which is quite a sight for me. On into town we go and more dazzling signs come into view. Trolley cars, all lit up inside making busy, full of people headed for an evening of amusement.

A bit different down town is from the neighborhoods. Out there in the 'hood there is an arc light at each corner with dark in between. Down town has many lights along the street, signs lit up and store-front windows lit up displaying their wares.

I'm not a country kid, but an edge of town one and this trip to town is a treat. Tonight we are going to the Broadway Theater (on Broadway of course) to see Naughty Marietta, an operetta. This one is a musical story and will be more connected than the vaudeville shows in lower downtown stages. But I like all of it, any of it along with enjoying seeing good spirits of folks on a Saturday evening down town.

It is great to be with Mom and Dad, together in a festive mood. There probably won't be an after show treat tonight as most affordable places to have a snack will have closed long ago. The big fancy, expensive places will still be feeding the after theater crowd.

After the show Dad starts home along Broadway once again, which is not his usual route. He is going slowly (not whizzing as per usual), past Gates Rubber Company.

Here is the Bredan Tower still open. Bredan makes butter, good butter. In the summer time, like now, they have many kinds of ice cream on hand. Cars are clustered around and folks are buying ice cream by the pint, quart and cone. Seems to me that they have the most flavorful, rich ice cream in the whole world. Dad gets out of the car and I with him and go up to the window to get ice cream cones. I have my mouth set for a strawberry cone and I didn't pay much attention to what flavor cones he got for him and Mom but happily I carry my double dip strawberry cone, giving it a lick or two on the way to the car. It hasn't been too long that it has been permissible for me to eat an ice cream cone while riding in the car, so it is somewhat of a double pleasure to be consuming the delicious strawberry ice cream cone in the car already. A feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction spreads over my happy tummy and happy well behaved me.

As we get away from the down town area it gets progressively darker as we go, easing into a restful peaceful feeling. We arrive home and the car is locked and we head in. It is pretty late, but it is Saturday night, in the summer time. As we get in the house and the lights are turned on, with a twinkle in his eye, my Dad looks at Mom and asks, "How about a game of Rummy before bed ? You Game ? But maybe Douggie wants to go to bed." Right away I start campaigning for 500 rummy which can run for quite a long time. After frowning thought Dad allows that perhaps being Saturday night it will be okay, just this once.

I watch my cards and the board like a hawk, rummy Mom once, go out several times. Along with that my ears are open to the conversation they are having along with the game. No wild secrets are discussed, nor any fears aired but mostly current events from where they work. They both work for the same company and I know many of the people they talk of. Saturday night heaven it is to me, would that it could last forever, just like this.

Finally the game is over and my lobbying for another -- even a short one is nixed, reluctant that such a happy evening has to come to a close, I go in, undress and crawl under the cover, playing in my mind the events of the evening I climb aboard the Dreamland Express once again.

Neatly and in proper order my beloved memories of a different age are STILL THERE . . . . . . .

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