Oct. 15, 2005 - 19:34 MDT

BACK THEN

As we slept, brother-in-law left, as usual, somewhere in the middle of the night. He doesn't like sad goodbyes, and aren't most goodbyes prayers that we shall live long enough to meet again ?

So today was a day of catch up on deferred tasks and some readying up for winter such as folding, casing and storing our big umbrella, planning on how to fold and store the cushions of our swing and things such as that. A trip to the post office to see what might not be there for us and happily surprised to get some mail we did want.

We had a leisurely lunch broken with peaceful conversation of the friendly companionable kind.

Then tonight, on my way from the clothes dryer, through the living room the Lawrence Welk program caught my attention. Although I don't hear very well, I could and did hear enough to take me back to the time Heather and I were raising children.

A time when TV was a God for poor folks like us and music as well as plays etc. were what we could afford.

One thing I remember was being intimately involved in the professional wrestling shown on the tube. All caught up and rooting for one favorite or another, until, one night, I realized that if what it looked like was happening -- was really happening -- there would be ambulances outside and stretcher bearers carrying off the wounded.

Guess that is what has led to me being the non sports fan of the crowd. That and the fact that not one nano-second of dead air is allowed on TV sports. Some kind of jabber-blabber going on all volume is turned up by the other caster and turned into pickalilly. That and the instant replays, as well as the same time. Once in a while, in a mindless fit, one sportscaster will say something serious and sensible and the uning in to other games being played on the same day makes it too darn much work for me to have any enjoyment out of Saturday or Sunday games.

Lawrence Welk times were during the time when it was possible to actually hear the words that were being sung and there were times for tender, loving words to strum heartstrings. Then too, joyful, happy, rhythmic music had its place on the program. Dancing played a huge part the happy action. Seemed like each of our kids had their own personal favorites, one loved the tap dancer, one aspired to be an accordionist, the girls wanted to be singers. And I ? The gal who played the Honky Tonk piano was one of my beloved favorites, that and the Irish Tenor. Seemed though being busy enough all the time that I never learned the names of any of the performers, other than the clarinetist, Peanuts Hucko. I guess the reason for that is that once I saw a write up in the Rocky Mountain News that Peanuts was a man with Denver connections and Man, could old Peanuts play the clarinet.

One thing about that program was the outstanding talent by all the artists. Amazing that.

It was family time for sure when Lawrence Welk was on. Later on most of our kids would watch the late movie, one was still too young yet early on.

Seemed to me that we came closer to each other those times, banded and bonded to the max. We all enjoyed what we were watching and hearing and along with it aspired to do better things in life I think.

It was a different time, it was. Different ways of thinking too. Civil rights were big then and are in danger of being taken from all of us now.

It was a time of raising children for us, trying to set an example for them to live up to and watching them strive to be a person worth while even though being a bit ornery at times.

It would of course be nice to back up and have another go at things, possibly doing better the second time around. But, then, possibly screwing up worse than ever before.

Those days of camping out with the boys and occasionally with the whole family are never to be taken from us. The progression from one level of education to the next -- times of pride for them. The perfecting of friendships among us all took time and effort, every minute enjoyed and treasured.

So, here I am, wrinkling and feebling away, but still living at the top of my voice BACK THEN . . . . . . . . .