Good Old Days: Memories

By Mildred Olson

He was tall and could be described as skinny. He had a countenance that reminded one of a stern army drill sergeant. He often called her and, in a loud, grumpy voice that sounded like a command, say, “Get on your bike and get down here. I've got some fresh strawberries.” Or it might have been raspberries. He was 94, not in good health, took care of himself and his house, lived alone, and still found time to have a good garden.

This warm, sunny afternoon, as they sat at his kitchen table, he suddenly started to reminisce. He said, “When I was in first grade, we had to learn some silly rhymes.” He remembered his teacher's name and stated, “She was a good teacher, but had us learn some silly things.”

As he started to recite, she interrupted and asked if he minded if she wrote some of them down. Not saying a word, he got her some paper and a pencil and she started to write. Here are just a couple from the many:

When a man gets old and gray,

He ought to be thrown in a bale of hay and fed to the goats,

Because he is always in the way.

And:

I felt so rotten I went up and stuck my head in a woodchuck's hole,

And couldn't get it out to save my soul.

This visit took quite a while and she noticed he seemed tired. “Take the strawberries, get on your bike, be on your way.” Just like that, her visit ended.

He is gone now, but she's still got choice memories of their friendship. And the copy of the “silly” rhymes.

Memories from the good old days.