Mailboxes and Old Barns: Back in the Day

Things change –
It was never called a living room. That would have been a bit pretentious.
The front room had sheer curtains on the one south-facing window; an upright piano until about 1951 when it was replaced by a studio piano; a maroon patterned rug with huge flowers in the print; and a floor model combination Hi-Fi/radio after we got electricity in 1949 or ’50.
That Hi-Fi did amazing service. We could, and did, stack twelve 78 RPMs with music such as Her Royal Majesty’s Marine Band, or very special 33 1/3s like Bugs Bunny and His Friends. That was one of only two children’s records we had so it was played over and over and over. Eventually, my brother and I had it perfectly memorized and performed it for our own amusement, with sound effects, on long car trips to California or Iowa. Good times.

John Philip Sousa’s long plays got special use when I was approaching eighth grade and would finally be allowed to try out to be a majorette for the high school band. I’d pile on the Sousa records, turn the volume up to the loudest setting, open all the doors and windows and march back and forth with abandon out in the yard, working on high throw-and-catch routines.
Two 5″ X 7″ photos hung on one wall: Natural Bridge, Virginia and Yosemite Falls had been visited and photographed.
There was a magazine rack and one easy chair plus Dad’s old rocking chair where he sat and read in the evenings~~magazines, history books and, always, his King James Bible. Longer winter evenings increased the time spent reading, and time singing around the piano. Dad had a great tenor voice, but he would always be reading- while Mom sang soprano, I played the piano and sang alto, and my brother took care of bass.
There were doilies on the arms and back of the davenport. Behind the davenport on the wall hung this plaque which is now hangs in our home:

The CROWN of the HOME is GODLINESS

The BEAUTY of the Home is ORDER

The GLORY of the HOME is HOSPITALITY

The BLESSING of the HOME is CONTENTMENT

Cars did not have ignitions; they had starters.

Teachers dealing with a student who wouldn’t listen sent a note home with the student, who handed it to their mother and stood there silently while she read it, before handing to their father. Nothing much was said. The next morning at breakfast, the Imperative Question might be asked, “Are you going to behave yourself today?”

Things change, but nobody can change what’s in our heart without our permission – let’s hang on to our hearts.

This old poem documents some things of the heart – someone else’s word picture, someone else’s mailboxes and old barns described in a most satisfying way.

If you can, I suggest you read it aloud. It’ll do your heart good.

Old Aunt Mary’s
James Whitcomb Riley

Wasn’t it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth–when the Saturday’s chores were through,
And the “Sunday’s wood” in the kitchen, too,
And we went visiting, “me and you,”
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s?

It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray–
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s!

We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
Where the hammering “red-heads” hopped awry,
And the buzzard “raised” in the “clearing” sky
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s.

And then in the dust of the road again;
And the teams we met, and the countrymen;
And the long highway, with sunshine spread
As thick as butter on country bread,
Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s.

Why, I see her now in the open door,
Where the little gourds grew up the sides and o’er
The clapboard roof!–And her face–ah, me!
Wasn’t it good for a boy to see–
And wasn’t it good for a boy to be
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s?

And O my brother, so far away,
This is to tell you she waits to-day
To welcome us:–Aunt Mary fell
Asleep this morning, whispering, “Tell
The boys to come!” And all is well
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s.