Sunday, February 19, 2012

An Ode to the Old Fire Hall

Today I was thinking about Easter.  Easter brought me to the memory of the old fire hall in Lightstreet, where I grew up in Pennsylvania, and all the things that a volunteer community fire company stood for in the "old days".  Now the old fire hall pictured is not where I grew up, but pretty similar.  I could not find a picture of Lightstreet.

First of all the fire company was all volunteers.  I grew up not knowing that being a fireman could be a career or a full time job.  I knew the men who fought fires were the same men that came home from jobs after a long day at work and responded when the fire bell rang.  I never knew who was in charge of ringing that bell, I just knew that when the siren went off everyone in town would run out to the front street to see which direction our one and only firetruck would go.  Then it would be rush back into the house and get on the phone with neighbors in that direction and see what was burning.  It was a way of life.

The fire company stood for a lot more than fires, but I guess growing up I took it all for granted.  For example, this is where you went every December to meet Santa Claus and if you stood in line, he would give you a box of chocolates and a big juicy orange.  After he left for his next visit, everyone would gather around the tables and eat homemade ice cream and neighbors would chat.  The kids would get to climb on the fire truck and have their picture taken for Mom's scrapbook.  It was a great night that kids looked forward to from year to year.  I enjoyed it as a child and as a parent.

Then -- of course -- there was the annual egg hunt.  For weeks before the grand event, volunteer firemen and their wives would solicit dozens and dozens of dyed eggs from all the local neighbors, churches, garden clubs, and anyone else who was willing to give.  A day or two before the Saturday of Easter, the eggs would be collected and Saturday morning they would be "hid" (see above) on the grasses of the local ball field.  You would gather with your children and they would get enough eggs to keep you in egg salad, picked eggs, etc. for weeks.  Of course it was also a social event when people could come out of their winter doldrums and watch the kids.  The firemen also sprung for large chocolate rabbits as prizes.  The eggs were all real and all donated.  You couldn't trust people to do that today and I am sure the Board of Health wouldn't allow it but it is a memory I am glad I have.

Next event would be the Annual Fireman's Carnival.  All the little towns had one and you attended as many as you could make it to (or could afford).  Money was tight and this was a treat, but you went if only to show off your new baby in his/her shiny stroller.  The biggest attraction was always the homemade ice cream and Lightstreet had the best chocolate I've ever eaten anywhere.  The cakes that were served with the ice cream were solicited from local housewives and donated just like the Easter eggs.  Today if you made homemade ice cream or cakes and tried to sell them, once again the Board of Health would have something to say.

Males started to join the fire company around the time they were old enough to drive a car.  They spent their nights playing pool, cards, and what have you -- just hanging out waiting for the fire bell to ring but hoping it wouldn't interrupt their game.  Wives and girlfriends were used to this routine and didn't suspect the husbands were cheating with anything other than the big red firetruck.  It was a way of life .There were no women members, except for the auxiliary that made the cakes and the eggs.  I guess the men left them meet in the fire hall once in awhile.  I'm not sure.  Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, 4-H, Cub Packs, Garden Clubs, and many other organizations used this building as their stalwart meeting place.  It was a very important part of a little community.

Times have changed.  I've lived in the city for so long where firemen are career people and have to have their salaries negotiated by mayors and committees; Easter egg hunts are held at supervised places with plastic eggs filled with God knows what, and I'm not sure where all the committees meet.  I do know that I am very thankful I was able to grow up in a place that had the "community fire hall".


Saturday, February 18, 2012

The Longaberger Bowl

As promised, I am writing memories that pass through my mind.  This morning I woke up with the thoughts of a bittersweet memory of Tom.  In case you are new to me, Tom is my dear son-in-law that passed way before  his time last summer.  In a lot of ways, Tom was my best friend.  One of the things we did together was go to yard sales.

One of our favorite annual yard sales was a benefit for BARC's of Baltimore, a local animal shelter.  Many good finds could be had there.  I will never forget last year because it holds one of my fondest picture memories of Tom.

I had been sorting through a huge table of cat items, picking out various unopened packages of litter box liners that were on sale for fifty cents each.  I had really found a treasure and was filling a large shopping bag.  I look up across the table and there stands Tom with the biggest shitty grin on his face.  Now, you had to know Tom to know what shitty grin I mean.  Anyway he was holding this pink-rimmed very large Longaberger bowl in his hand.  I walked over and he said "Look, I just found this for three dollars."  Now having once been a Longaberger collector, I knew he had a treasure.  Those bowls sell for many more dollars than any bowl is worth.  This was a very large one.  He did indeed find a bargain.  It was perfect with no cracks or chips.

Tom was an avid cook and kitchen items were one of the things he loved.  An afternoon at Williams and Sonoma was a real outing to him.  And I have to admit that he was one of the best cooks I've ever encountered.  I knew that bowl was going to a loving home and being put to good use.  Little did I know that in about three months time it would be put to retirement with the rest of Tom's memories.

I don't want this post to be sad or morbid.  It is one of my good memories.  I miss Tom every day, but I have come to terms with his passing and by doing so, I want to treasure and share some of my personal moments with him so you can all enjoy the special person he was (and hopefully still continues to be with God).  RIP Tom ... I know Chris is taking good care of your bowl.


Friday, February 17, 2012

My New Blog


Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind
Memories, sweetened through the ages just like wine

Quiet thoughts come floating down
And settle softly to the ground
Like golden autumn leaves around my feet
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories,
Sweet memories

I chose this title for my NEW blog from an old Elvis song because this one is going to be memories. I had another blog a couple years ago and gave it up for lack of time, if nothing else. I just got bored with writing it. Now I've decided I need to be more disciplined and write again.

This time my blog is going to contain all kinds of little stories about all the memories that pass through my mind. All of us have many memories every day -- some good and some bad. I thought it would be fun to share them. Some will be funny, some will be bittersweet (probably about those that have passed on), and some will be either serious and/or entertaining. Regardless, I hope you enjoy them.

I close my eyes and the first little memory that comes to my mind occurred when I was a child - probably around 10 or 11. Kids stayed kids back in those days (around 1957). Girls my age didn't notice boys that much yet and since I lived in a very small town where we were all "raised by the village", male and female played together as one. One of my fond memories is sleigh riding. We all had "American Flyer" sleds and they got used hard. My gosh, it must have snowed a lot more back in those days because I remember sledding all winter. The snow came and it stayed.

My friends and I would meet at the top of an old hill and spend hours speeding down without the thought of a crash or freezing to death. On the edge of my town there was a sheep farmer and he didn't mind us kids using his pastures (I guess sheep like hills), for our pleasure. We would meet at the top of old Levi "Buck" Townsend's steepest hill and spend hours flying down. The paths made by the Flyers would freeze and become icy and then the next day we would meet again and fly even faster. What a wonderful memory.

None of us had anything fancy like the saucers and toboggans that kids have now days. Just an old American Flyer was sufficient and if your family couldn't afford one, you would share. Going down two to a sled was even more fun. We never minded walking back up the hill and we were always patient at taking turns so no one would crash into another.

Times have changed. Kids today probably still sled when there is enough snow and they aren't tucked inside playing their computer games. I hope they grow up with some good memories like I did.