Wednesday

In Those Days, I liked the summer time the best. Riding a bicycle, with playing cards clattering against the spokes and a transistor radio tied to the bars, to Coney Island. The more affluent folks went there. I'd walk beneath the boardwalk and look for coins that the people dropped, but couldn't find the way or the courage to go under the boardwalk. The coins I found became my ticket for the Cyclone. Summer was for stick ball and Scouting. My Mom was our Troop Leader. She made our uniforms from scratch. I learned a lot at scouting. I made things, took things apart to see what made them work, whittled a slingshot with my Boy Scout knife, and camped out.

Things seemed to change as time passed. There were songs about transistor radios, boardwalks, and ticket for rides. My children had portable radios that also played cassette tapes, and their children now have Mp3 music players. Drive in movies and video tapes were in. Scouting was all but gone, replaced private, smaller, and more specialized things for youth. And the desert was too hot to do much of anything outdoors. Air conditioning was at home, at work, at schools, and in the cars. Children got fewer clothes, but more toys for Christmas. Telephones no longer had dials, and there were extensions in most every room. Televisions were mostly color, and played around the clock. Playing cards were replaced with electric motors on some bicycles. And things were good.

Seems life for me has returned to much like it was. Gone forever are the encyclopedias, corded telephones, and audio tapes. But I still rely on my scouting skills every day, and listen to a transistor radio near the Dock while thinking about the days that were.