RIP, Well Done
OK, back to battery this morning, but late after a wonderful evening with friends in the EfM graduates group that meets one Tuesday evening a month for dinner. Last evening especially good -- company, hospitality, wine, tasty treats, and roast leg of lamb with vegetables, salad, bread, and icebox pie.
We usually have a short program, but last night was our last meeting until fall, so our program was happily visiting with each other.
Sadly, the PCNH obits reveal why the paper has been thrown down front the past few mornings: the death of our carrier Bill Arnold. I was afraid of this, seeing that the last time the routine changed was a couple years ago when he had a heart attack. Bill, whom I never met, was born in 1932. We no longer have newspaper boys rising before dawn to roll their papers, bend them to hold them tight and for easy tossing, and doing their route on foot or bike, then home for quick breakfast before school. Howie Newsome bringing the milk and Joe Crowell tossing the morning newspaper. The stability of life and love in Our Town has slipped away into eternity, but it will always be my favorite play, and no civic center auditorium will ever replace the Bay High auditorium in my heart.
Paul Brent’s picture has a 1957 Chevrolet parked out front, but that was some years after my time there, so I’m going with the postcard. If I magnify it up large enough to be certain it starts turning to dots; but there’s that Silver Streak Pontiac from 1938 or 1939 again, and just in front of it a 1935 or 1936 GM car with the streamlined back, spare tire and no trunk. Here to stand corrected, I'm going with 1938 for the Pontiac sedan. And the car in front of it is not a 1935, because I can enlarge it enough to see that the driver's door is not a "suicide door." But it's the "Master" series with the new all-steel turret roof, so it's not a '34. I'm going with 1936, but someone could prove it's a '37, I suppose. The car in front of them is too indistinct to tell, but it's mid-30s.
Mixing it all up, a friend recently sent me a video of the 1950s that melted my heart with nostalgia and memories. But it's OK now, and I don't need to get back up in my tree this morning!
Mixing it all up, a friend recently sent me a video of the 1950s that melted my heart with nostalgia and memories. But it's OK now, and I don't need to get back up in my tree this morning!
The old ways were best. You bet your sweet bippy.
TW