I REMEMBER

     I remember!  Not all of the details, but I remember.  The voice from the past that left me a note via classmates or email, or Facebook, or what other technology we have created.  Too many arthritic fingers along with Parkinson’s limit my typing skills.  They weren’t that great anyway.  The voice I remember was Carol Mayer, a long ago friend in a place as enchanting as any.  The place was Durango, Colorado, the place of chipped teeth, skunks, Buzzy, three story grade school building, which is now a museum, and,  of course, hills and mountains with trails to explore.

     Animas grade school was my first social activity.  We learned how to get along, share and help each other.  Most parents are more interested in their child’s academic progress.  They should be interested in both.

     My first friends lived close to each other and could usually be found in one of three places.  We played every summer, exploring the banks of the Amimas  River, hiking in the nearby hills, or playing baseball with broken bats given a new life by bandaging them with electrical tape.  Then, of course, there was always horseback riding on Carol’s wonderful horse, Andrea.  

     How many of us growing up in Durango did the following: placing pennies on the railroad track and getting rewarded with a flat, shiny piece of copper?  How about swinging on a rope over the Animas River and letting loose above a swimming hole?  Or swinging on the ropes from tree to tree acting like Tarzan (or like  boy or the chimpanzee )?  Since most of us grew up in Durango playing baseball, any round object, usually a rock, was an invitation to throw it at something.  Unfortunately some of those targets were human.  To Jimmy Kelly, Terry Gibbs and Lenny Turner (who’s target was the back window of his truck), I apologize.  

another day gone by

     Some other activities most of us did while growing up in Durango might   have included scouting and finding trails in the hills around Durango.  I found the cave up Lightner creek.  It had been explored many times but to me, I was the first.  And finally two activities we might have been doing were riding our bicycles all over town (our parents always knew where we were), and fishing the Animas river for trout and catching those awful trash fish, the suckers.

     The following stories I leave for my grandkids, my family, and friends.  Perhaps they will stir the memory or two from your past.

TIME KEEPS ON SLIPPING SLIPPING SLIPPING INTO THE FUTURE.

Yes, I remember.