What is a fond memory you have from your childhood?
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It is my sincere desire to provide readers of this site with the best unbiased information available, and a forum where it can be discussed openly, as our Founders intended. But it is not easy nor inexpensive to do so, especially when those who wish to prevent us from making the truth known, attack us without mercy on all fronts on a daily basis. So each time you visit the site, I would ask that you consider the value that you receive and have received from The Burning Platform and the community of which you are a vital part. I can't do it all alone, and I need your help and support to keep it alive. Please consider contributing an amount commensurate to the value that you receive from this site and community, or even by becoming a sustaining supporter through periodic contributions. [Burning Platform LLC - PO Box 1520 Kulpsville, PA 19443] or Paypal
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Riding around on my bike alone or with friends during the summer break. Also going down to the neighborhood pharmacy (Charlie Walter’s) and checking out all the halloween candy when it came in – the liquid-filled wax skeletons, the wax lips and mustaches, etc. He used to put all of his expired prescription drugs in the 5 gallon glass water bottles and line them up around the store. Must have been hundreds of thousands of pills. Never fully appreciated what they all were till I got older and understood drugs. Now the place is some butt-ugly glass and metal office building. Just being free and away from what was going on back at home was the real treat.
When I was given the option of “the belt” or, go pick a switch off of the ficus tree in the backyard so I could have the back of my legs tanned.
Or, getting punched in the arm by my old man when I was the last one at the dinner table when fish and canned peas were being served (to this day I rarely eat fish and definitely no canned peas) and I threw them up still sitting at the table.
Oh wait, you said happy childhood memories…let me think…
LMAO… Belt or switch… did we have the same pappy???
The belt coming out from the loops and then the snap… Or, go find a switch meant bring back a whimpy one means the ol man would go pick one… a frik’n 2×4 for sure… so we had to find one big enough to satisfy and still not be to big to cause a LOT of discomfort…. oh.. and be quick about it… 🙂
We must have! Actually, this must of been the methods all across the country back then. My old man would come home from a long day working at a foundry, sweaty, dirty, tired, and he would get the “guess what your son did today!!”.
No wonder he was pissed off!
To funny… exact same message. My older brother was a big talker, no action. So when I heard the “guess what your son was into today”, I KNEW the next thing I hear was my name being called… followed by “get in here boy”…
We had incredible freedom, and tons of opportunity for trouble and I’m pretty sure I found most of it… Even to this day I seem to be drawn like a moth to the porchlight if theres a commotion, jump in on the under dogs side right away…
Funny thing about my ol man… he was fair… If I started a fight it had to be justified as being a bully wasn’t tolerated. Wanted a bike, shwin mustang, was told no money so start earning it. When I raised half the cost he took me in to buy the bike I wanted… Knowing I’d look after it longer… He was hard and tough like boot leather… miss him a lot. He didn’t have much school’n but was the smartest guy I knew, more so as I grew older too…
Also, today is the day I turned 67. The same age my dad was when he died of pancreatic cancer.
He was actually a very good man, a WWII Navy Vet and just a product of the time. My mom wore him out (not in the good way!) and he got to come home and dole out justice to 4 sons.
Happy birthday, Brewer!
Thank you, Abbie. The wife is making me my favorite meal. Lasagna ( as only an Italian woman can).
I’m enjoying a cocktail and an Oliva Melanio V cigar right now. My son sent me a box of them.
One has to enjoy the good things in life while we can.
Happy Birthday… Ur a couple years older than I which explains the a lot of the similarities.
Pappy had a tough upbringing, raised by sisters. Don’t begrudge him at all, did what was best and then some… six kids and one a hellion on two feet…
Thanks, Brian. From all your posts I feel like I know you. I wish you were not a country away. I bet you’d be a good friend!
Now I don’t know you, but I’m still gonna wish you a Happy Birthday!
Thanks
Happy Birthday.
Thanks, Leah.
Happy Birthday Brew,may you and us all have future”Happy Birthdays”!
I know,a bit optimistic but no worries,still have not bought a 2022 calendar as I am not that optimistic!
Enjoy your drink and smoke!
I could only stomach LeSeur baby peas in a can….worth trying if you dare. The regular big ones were horrible.
Riding my Suzuki Gaucho 50 ’till it ran out of gas, then hoofing it through the woods and across the tracks to the gas station. And sneaking in the side door to buy a pack of Winstons out of the machine for $1.00.
Camping out at the swimming hole with my buddies back before the land was donated to the township and made into a park. Speaking of which, me and my buddies made the “walking” trails in the park with our dirtbikes.
Walking through the neighborhood with a shotgun over my shoulder heading for the tracks to hunt rabbits. Was the perfect place as the crews came through every couple of years and cut the branches back from the “telegraph” lines and left brush piles spaced about 50 yards apart for miles.
Gaucho was a great bike.
Haven’t seen a cigarette machine in decades.
You’d be arrested and have your bike confiscated for riding the “walking” trails now.
And be swatted for walking through the neighborhood with a shotgun.
Probably the same for being on the railroad right of way…
Not a ton of great memories (I had warring parents when good Catholics didn’t divorce-while child abuse was encouraged). I lived between Boston and New York. My own town was split in half between diehard Red Sox and Yankee fans. Many a baseball discussion in the caddy shack back then led to fisticuffs. Coming from Italian lineage one was born a Yankee fan because of Lazzeri, Berra, Crosetti, and Saint Joseph of DiMaggio. A memory I will die reliving was my 1st trip to Yankee Stadium. I remember coming through the dark tunnel and into the stadium. The emerald green field with sharp white lines. The facade, the Ballentine Beer sign, the Monuments where The Babe once ruled. Kids hawking scorecards and screaming “Beer Here!”. The air seemed crisper, the smells more pungent. And there taking batting practice was my hero: Number 7. I hope heaven is as lovely. I may have cracked my 1st boner right then and there.
CCR,
You writing about Ballentine beer brought back memories. My granny (Irish) used to drink at least a six Pack of 16oz Ballentine Ale on her days off ( Thurs and Sunday). She’d get kinda hammered and the Irish Came out. Poor gramps usually caught he’ll for nothing in particular. She was a great ol’ gal though.
Thanks…
We moved out of the compact densely populated suburban neighborhood of my birth when I was 6 or 7. Our new neighborhood was in the early stages of construction with large tracts of undeveloped land for miles around. There were 5 of us roughly the same age and we literally had free reign over that massive expanse of land. Hours of sports in the backyard (so much so that it turned into a goat track during the winter); covered miles of forest and river bank exploration (including dropping into said river from an old steel truss bridge); saving rabbits and mice from the clutches of our dogs’ mouths; sledding down a fairly steep hill through the woods with a massive jump at the end to launch us over the stream at the foot of the hill; water gun fights; 2 mile bike rides to the general store for candy and gum; constructing a rudimentary look out tower about 40 feet up in an old hard wood; playing hide and seek in partially constructed houses; carefree from dusk to dawn. With the present backdrop of descending totalitarianism, I am thankful for these memories and pray my kids can experience the same.
“That you and I in hand as we e’en do in heart, might ramble away as children, among the woods and fields, and forget these many (f)years, and these sorrowing cares, and each become a child again.” E. Dickinson
Dad playing guitar & singing, holidays, cousins (LOTS)…overall great childhood thanks to awesome parents.
Yea … I was going to write … ‘any good childhood memories …. just about all of ’em!’ (and we didn’t have alot of money to boot. And yet, we always seemed to have plenty of everything.)
Reminds me of Mr.Beeverts who lived two houses north of us playing banjo and guitar on his front porch. Found out years later that he was part of the house band at the Louisiana Hayride up until around 1960. He played there with Elvis in his early days, Jerry Lee Lewis, Hank Williams, etc.
A shit ton.
From age 4 to 7 my family lived in upstate New York. It was close to paradise.
It was an area of single family houses with big lots, and no fences anywhere, so me and my friends from kindergarten, later 1st grade, ran across the grass along many houses and back.
My father had put up an above-ground swimming pool, maybe 6 yards in diameter and 3 ft. deep water. Obviously unheated, the water was almost always freaky cold, but we kids didn’t care much if the sun and air were hot. I couldn’t keep my head above water, but I could hold my breath, so I was just diving across to grab the side handle all the time.
We also had a sandbox and a set of swings. Our long black asphalt driveway got crazy hot on summer days, so we barefoot kids were splashing it with water all day long.
Only fell down once, after they took the training wheels off my Schwinn bike.
We had a huge tree in front of our house, in autumn after my parents had raked together all, me and my younger sister jumped into the pile of leaves.
At least once per winter we got like 20″ snow overnight – winter wonderland.
“This won’t last forever.”
But I did not suspect at the time that growing up & out of my own childhood would or could be so impacted by those many others who had to stay behind. The asylum metaphor can’t be overused enough, but the underused kindergarten metaphor is just as useful. There are many here among us who feel life is but a joke ♪♫♪ or a stunt/ed.
And…judging by all the lore I heard, the further back in time, the harder it was – & the “better” the interpretive good old days gloss. Cogdis prevails.
In winter, going to the Garden State Parkway overpass by Weequahic Park and dropping snowballs on cars.
Paying stick-ball on a busy street in Newark.
Seeing my first vagina (other than my baby sister) around 11 years of age — we liked to play “doctor” , really, when her mom and dad came to visit my parents.
I just spit my coffee all over my screen. You win the comment board!
Me and the guy I hung around with most were avid baseball fans and players.
With just 2 of us, we’d play what we called Fast Pitch.
We had this chemical company building at one end of the local park.
Their brick wall side that bore their loading dock and faced their parking lot was used as the back stop.
We’d chalk a strike zone outline on the building.
One guy would bat, the other guy would pitch.
Tennis ball was used.
Ground balls past the pitcher were singles.
If grounders were fielded, the pitcher had to throw another strike to equal a throw out to 1st base.
Line drives that hit the fence of the park, about 30 ft. behind the pitcher were doubles.
A liner between the top of the 4 ft. fence and the power wire 20 feet above it were triples.
Over the wire line drive was a home run.
After 3 outs (strike out, ground out, lined out, or popped out), we’d switch roles.
We played that for hours on end in good weather, and often enough where we were good hitters
when we played organized, league play for our school, or for local park intermural teams.
He played Al Kaline, and I liked 3B Aurelio Rodriguez during those years. And, I’m not even a beaner.
EC might have had a new respect for me, had he known that, I bet.
I miss Juan Santos.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May Almighty God bless him, forgive him his sins, and keep him in everlasting life.
Glory be to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be; world without end.
Amen.
Awesome. We also played fast pitch in Chicago with rubber balls instead of tennis balls. What was awesome about fast pitch was when everybody was worn out from sandlot ball, I just needed another person to play. I had a twin, so that was easy. When he was worn out, I would find another. I was the champ as I could pitch and hit. I thoroughly beat kids several years older than me. I also had a rubber arm. So, I could throw all day long.
Fishing with the
Old man his old man and my brother
Building a pretend town on taped together card board with a felt tip marker and getting with the neighborhood gals and guys and playing with our hot wheels for hours. That was when we weren’t out in the orange groves causing trouble with kids on the other side of the groves(turf wars). The orange fights were legendary. Sadly the groves are all gone, just the ghost’s of the past remain.
Growing up in Chicago, the school system sucked. But I had a lot of fun playing sports. We played them all in season; baseball, football, street hockey, and basketball when we were older kids. We also went on a lot of family picnics. Chicago has an awesome lake front, and there are also forest preserves, and small lakes in the NW Chicago suburbs and small towns. We did this every weekend, and it also included family friends, in laws etc. It was a great time of playing sports, hiking, fishing, and barbecues. This was one of the benefits of having a big family that likes to do stuff. We basically lived for the weekend fun.
In 9th grade when a bunch of college girls took me skinny dipping. They were glistening.
Uh, I mean, laying on a grassy hill and looking at clouds.
Laying on the shelf behind the back seat, looking up at the sky. Contentment.
Two favorite memories-
1) Summer vacations spent camping for 3 weeks. I yearned more for vacation than Christmas. Yosemite, Lassen, Coast Redwoods, Oregon Coast and my grandparents place in southern Oregon. That was the usual route. Also went to British Columbia, Idaho and Yellowstone some years. Every night sitting around the campfire listening to my dad, mom and uncle talk about growing up during the Depression and not really realizing that times were tough. They were all very adaptable and well adjusted and blue collar success stories.
Stories of racing flathead Fords on El Mirage dry lake, street racing, breakdowns, school pranks, fist fights, lost friends. Stories from my dad about his time in the Navy on a Tin Can in Korea (2 tours). Stories from my uncle in the Marines whose unit miraculously got detoured from going to Korea at the last minute and spent the remainder of his time at Camp Pendleton. The list of topics was seemingly endless.
My parents actually met when my dad was laying under the Ford of some friend of his or my uncle’s working on it and he saw an attractive pair of legs walk by on their way to the washing machine in the garage.
2) We got a German Shepard puppy (“Fancy”) when I was about 12. She was the perfect family dog and my great companion. I walked her every single night for an hour or more in a large field that belonged to Standard Oil and had a tank farm and some wells on it and was off limits to the public but I and my friends knew where all the openings in the fences were. Every night that wasn’t raining or later when I had a job and had to work late. This routine went on until I moved out when I got married 8 years later.
One night in the field she tangled with a skunk and lost big time. Spent hours in the garage rinsing her off with tomato juice (I think it was Grandma’s remedy) and then bathing her with pet shampoo. She really thought she’d done something wrong and I felt bad for her even as I gagged through the ordeal.
These are just some of the memories that come flooding back when I take the time to remember.
Wow this was a great QOTD it brought up so many good memories that I haven’t remembered in such a long time. Reading all the replies also brought back so many similar memories…..I can’t believe I have forgotten so many good things of the past…….
Watching the northern lights one summer while playing moonlighter frisbee with my dad, – nothing like seeing colors floating across the sky – right after I asked him if he thought there was life in outer space – spooky. It was a rare event since they were seen so far south – suburbs of Chicago circa early 70s.
Dad taking us to get ice cream at the Dairy Way in the stifling heat of summer.
Building a fort with all the neighbor kids with any materials we could find; it got so tall and ready to collapse with nails barely keeping it together, then one of the dads came to inspect our work and it was quickly dismantled and we roasted marshmallows over the fire – same thing happened to the underground tunnels we dug.
Great question of the day…………….
And Happy Birthday Brewer 55
https://summit.news/2022/04/08/babies-struggle-to-understand-basic-facial-expressions-as-a-result-of-adults-wearing-masks/
First time I had sex. I was both exhilarated and apprehensive. There….in the dark……..all alone…….not knowing if I’d get caught.
I grew up in rural, small town Ohio in the 1970’s and 80’s. It was paradise for a kid; plenty of open country, lots of kids my same age, no electronics (save for the TV with 6 channels, radio and turntable) and no fear of anything except the wrath of my parents if I got out of line. Sorry to say most of that is now gone. The jobs all left in the 1990’s and there is nothing but drugs, poor people who can’t leave and misery. And to the people who did this to my childhood home I quote astronaut George Taylor………….”God damn you all to hell!”
My Dad and Great Uncle would take us to Lake Texoma for the annual sand bass tournament and festival.
We would run around the lake in Dad’s Evinrude Rogue boat, catching dozens of schooling sand bass (white bass) and then weigh in at the end of the day.
After it was done, the town of Madill, Oklahoma would become the SandBas Festival, and all the caught fish from the tournament were fried and fed to the townspeople and tourists. Carnival rides and teenagers beauty contests, cake walks, etc.
This was 1970-74.
Pure Americana Leave it to Beaver days in my life.
Thank you Mom and Dad.
My mom was locked up somewhere but my dad had a girlfriend who came to our house to see about me when I was about 10 and became sick with a fever etc. She was so nice and I was hoping he would leave my mom and take me with him; I had hope for a while; but it didn’t happened. Later he had to run from the law. I was surprised and extremely happy about scoring super high on the Florida 12th Grade Academic Placement Test (471 points out of 495 possible, 250 was avg). I got lunch with the Florida Secretary of Agriculture, Dole Conner. I should have rubbed it in school officials faces who considered me bad blood & bad to the bone. Nobody I knew understood what it meant and nobody cared anyway. I was dirt poor four years but a lot of good memories start from college at FSU.