I got one of those strange invitations from my wife tonight to go for a run. I decline those invitations approximately 100% of the time (because she runs marathons and I sit in a recliner and read books). But since I got an AARP packet in the mail today, I was struck with this strange urge to prove something. So I agreed to go for a run downtown with her.
At the end of our run, we coasted downhill along the sidewalks of west Grayson. And I was hit with the strongest flashbacks of childhood. Traveling those same sidewalks on a skateboard. Click-click, click-click, as the wheels rolled over the cracks on the sidewalk as a 12 year-old.The block between Landsdowne and Hord St was the closest thing to a skateboard park we could manage, with its downhill slope and sudden dips. Grayson Pharmacy, Sears, Dollar General, Tots & Teens, and Western Auto. Flying past them all as fast as we could manage.
Always with my big brother and usually one or two other boys from Holcomb St, Paradise Hill, or Cardinal Hill crowd, making a pass through downtown on the summer days that we were left to entertain ourselves. The words of our parents pounded into our brains, “You boys better watch out for people walking out of the stores, and don’t run over them!” (I’m pretty sure somebody plowed and elderly lady one day, but it wasn’t me). We always stopped in Steve Womack’s Land Office to check in with our mom while she worked, and let her know we were alive and together. She gave us a lot of freedom and trust, partly because she pretty much had to, and partly because she just loved us unconditionally, no matter what kind of goofy stuff we got into. She showed us trust.
We would usually venture on down the street to visit our dad at his store. Some days we would hit him up for $3-$4 and that was plenty to feed us both at the Grayson Restaurant. I was always afraid to ask my dad for money, because it usually resulted in him asking a few questions in return. And there was always that thought in the back of my head that my dad thought my hair was too long or that I shouldn’t wear my hat backwards. But he usually didn’t mention those things……..usually.
Our parents weren’t together then. But they were both still raising us. And I’m thankful for that, still today. We knew what was expected of us, even when it wasn’t spoken out loud. We knew how much our parents loved us, and we knew what they believed in. Today, having three kids over the age of 18, I don’t have trouble picturing any of them muttering the phrase to themselves, “My dad would kill me if I did that”. And I think that’s pretty cool. They know they are loved, and they know what their mother and I expect of them and believe in. And I think, in the midst of all the silly talk we hear about privilege today, they understand, just as I do, what privilege is. Family, love, freedom, boundaries, responsibilities, and belief in God.
And sometimes, when I’m feeling nostalgic, I wish my kids could experience what I experienced as a kid. Neighborhood wiffle ball games, a day spent in Town Branch, violent pickup football games, walking to and from school, and skateboarding down Sunset Hill and the KCC cemetary hill. Times were different then. And they were good. My mom, my dad, my brother (and later my sister) and our large crowd of friends. My childhood. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I hope our kids say the same thing someday. Click-click, click-click, click-click.