Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, I didn’t have to undergo the tough times and conditions that my dad did, with no electricity until 1948, and no indoor plumbing until long after he had left home.  I did grow up in a much simpler and more carefree time than my grandchildren today.

One of the things that sticks with me even today, is how our parents let us explore.  In the summers, after some breakfast, I would get on my bike and head for town.  The city limit was just about a half-mile away, but we were “country kids”.  We rode the bus to school.

I would head straight for the Little League park.  I knew that there would be a passel of friends there no later than about 9:00 every day.  We would pick teams and just start playing baseball.  Visions of the greats of our time in our heads.  Mickey Mantle, Hank Aaron, and even some from our beloved Chicago Cubs, like Billy Williams and the great Ron Santo.  It was always two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning when each of us was up to bat.  You could hear the radio announcers in your head.  The dulcet tones of Vince Lloyd and Lou Boudreau making the call.  Sometimes we were the hero, and on more than a few occasions, it happened.  Steeee-rike three!  You’re out’a here.  I can’t remember how many World Series rings I won and lost.

Pretty soon it was lunchtime and off we would go to someone’s house for lunch. Unannounced, but always welcome.  A baloney sandwich, some chips, and usually a tall, cold glass of Kool-aid or lemonade.  Sodas were a treat even back then when you could get one at my grandpa’s gas station for one thin dime.

After lunch, back to the ball field we would go.  Pick new teams and do it all again.  Day in and day out.  

Somehow, we always knew when it was getting close to 5:00.  I don’t know how, because I don’t remember anyone wearing a watch.  Off to the house we scattered. Regaling our parents at dinnertime with our exploits of the day, but somehow always forgetting about those strikeouts.

As the summer went on, the mix was always changing.  Some of us got to take swimming lessons at the new High School with a fancy indoor pool.

Then some would start going on vacation.  Usually to visit a relative for a few days in another county, probably no more than 20-30 miles away.

Every other summer we would load up the car and head to Minnesota.  That was 600 miles away.  It might as well been to the moon because it seemed like it took that long to get there.  Mom and dad would load me and my two younger sisters in the Galaxy 500 and northward we would head.  Through the countryside of Indiana, corn fields and soybean fields everywhere for miles.

Eventually we would find the Interstate that would take us through Chicago, where we never stopped until we hit the Tollway.  We always stopped at one of the restaurants here because they were stretched over the tollway and we could eat a burger while watching the traffic fly by underneath our feet.  Those stops always had the neatest things in their vending machines.  Mexican jumping beans were always my favorite and I think I bought them three or four times before I finally figured out they didn’t really work.

Eventually we finally made it to the countryside of Minnesota to one of my aunt and uncle’s homes.

While we were country kids, my cousins were COUNTRY KIDS.  They had a barn and land.  What was probably twenty acres seemed like thousands.  So many places to explore. Go into the barn and up in the hay loft.  Everyone had a rope up there where you could swing until your arms felt like they were going to fall off.  We would shoot rifles and shotguns at targets.  The families would head to the river for a day of swimming or fishing, although most of the fish seemed to have been caught by the time we got there in August.

My grandma would come down, there would be freshly baked bread coming out of the oven.  My mom and aunt sitting at the table laughing, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee, even after lunch.  Every evening there would be anywhere from twelve to fifteen of us around the table and wherever we could find a seat.

I can still hear the laughter and playful kidding between cousins like it was yesterday.

I hope you enjoyed my journey as much as I did.

Tex