Being Eight was Great

We were the three musketeers, Sandy, Joanne and I.  Trouble was, more ofter than not, threes a crowd, two are companions.  And that combination rotated daily as easily as the wind changed direction.  Someone was often on the "out".   These girls were my childhood best friends. 

Fisher Run Road was my universe.  We lived in a community with ten families in our little piece of the world.  Summer was filled with baseball games, playing house and crawdad hunting.  On special outings, Joann, Sandy and I would make the long trek to Rock City, the top of the hillside on which we lived.  Up there, the cars on route 7 looked like ants and the forest floor was covered with ferns and small boulders.  The air was moist and cooler than down below.  We were outside of our universe, and it felt dangerous.  Back then, we were free to roam all day, not needing to check in with our parents except for when food was a necessity. 

In the heat of the summer, the asphalt road would bubble up with tar and we would have to run across it so as not to scorch our bare feet.  The cool water of the fresh water spring in Ruth and Nile's yard was always a refreshing cooling off nook.  Ruth was a dear gray-haired neighbor that gave us bowls of brown sugar with a tad bit of milk on it as a sweet treat whenever we offered to do a bit of housework. 

We would spend hour after hour singing with Donnie Osmond and David Cassidy and the Partridge Family on rainy days.  We did not watch TV, instead we played Sorry or Crazy Eights.  We would help each other with our chores around the house. 

There was skating, riding bikes, playing hide and seek when night fell, and stepping on your shadow.  During the winter months, there was snow!  That meant sledding and hot chocolate.  Sometimes Dad would pull us down the street on sleds with his motorcycle, what fun we had.  We wouldn't come in until we were chilled to the bone and soaking wet.  Strip down to our pj's, and stand on the floor furnace. 

Dad worked long days at the plant.  Dad was for playtime.  When he worked day shift, we would wait at the end of the driveway and he would let us sit on his lap and "drive" the car up the drive.  He was usually working on some project or another.  You wanted to stay clear or you would get roped into being his assistant.  And that was WORK.
 
Mom did not "play" with me or entertain me.  She did not plan my day.  She did not watch over me as I played with my friends throughout the day.  Through the social network of our community, the foundation of the neighborhood watch was in place and all children were under the watchful eye of an adult.   Mom was busy with her housework, laundry, soaps in the afternoon, supper in the evening, and baths and bedtime with kids in the evening. 

I couldn't have asked for a more perfect childhood- homemade cookies when I got off the bus after school and my Mom and Dad were married and very much in love.  It sad that those days are gone.  :.(