Tag: childhood

Moon Shots And A Box of Memories..

black and white photography

In the 1970s my brother and I would watch science fiction reruns on VHF T.V. and the adventures of Saturday Afternoons included reliving those we observed in monochrome. Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers and a slough of guys in rubber suits. Space travel was still new and every time an astronaut was shot into space the world held it’s breath. For two brothers growing up in rural Appalachia virtual reality required a large empty box, some crayons and bits of whatever they could find. Was the moon really made of green cheese? There’s only one way to find out.

The two boys worked diligently. Because they were brothers they didn’t need to speak much. Each knew instinctively what the other needed. A piece of tape here and crayon there. Flashlights rested in cardboard holsters on their hips. If the enemies attack before they were done they would need their laser swords close at a hand. The last meteor shower had done a lot of damage to the ship. Repairs took a lot of time but doing it right was worth the effort. Being the better mathematician, the younger brother picked up a stick and double checked his calculations in the dirt. “I think we’re ready.” He said as the boys stepped back and admired their handiwork. The refrigerator box had everything a good spaceship needs. Empty two liter bottles for rocket boosters. Empty toilet paper tubes for death rays. And flexible hoses they found in the shed for miscellaneous systems. They were really ready for a moon landing. Fortunately, they were able to record some space sounds by placing a cassette tape recorder next to T.V. This would allow for more realistic experience. The young astronauts entered into the cardboard ship and took their places at the control panel. The older brother pushed play on the recorder. Three…Two…One.. We have liftoff!

The adventure never ends as long as you believe.

Little Boys and Dirt Roads

Color Photography, West Virginia

I have often said that my highway to heaven is a dirt road. Dirt roads take us to places unknown and seldom seen. We enter another world where a good ATV ( commonly referred to as a 4 wheeler in my part of Appalachia) or your own feet are the best travel options. When I was a kid we would head out on an old dirt road like the one in the feature image ever chance we got. These roads often contain mud holes that more akin to ponds than potholes. In the spring and summer they’re normally full of tadpoles and newts. My brother and I would escape the heat of the mobile home by finding one of the largest holes we could back under the canopy of the trees to play in. We’d come home covered in mud after riding our bicycles through the mud as hard as we could. We were pretending to be motocross racers. We’d slam the brakes in mud and throw it out as hard as we could. Whoever could make the biggest splash was the winner. We’d play Evil Knievel too. (For those too young to remember he was the most famous stuntman of my youth. You can read about him here). My poor mother would have two boys who looked like mud monsters by the time we were done.

Later in life I would walk these dirt roads at a slower pace while stalking deer or just out exploring. Walking a road like the one in the feature image is kinda like being on a treadmill with people throwing mud, rocks and tree stumps at your feet. The mud settles in low spots and it’s a perfect way for a beginner to find animal tracks and learn about tracking.

Today necessity keeps me on the nice pavement. I walk through a world of concrete and asphalt. But I still long for an abandoned dirt road with a huge mud hole and a good off road bicycle.

Childhood Flashbacks

black and white photography, Fiction Story

I think that we all see things from the perspective of the inner child. The image above is the side entrance of the Nicholas County Courthouse. Even though I have really good friends who work there I always feel a little intimidated walking into the building.

I start to have flashbacks of slowly strolling down the hallway towards the principal’s office. (Headmaster in other cultures). Now, I wasn’t really in trouble a lot in school. I swear it was someone else that was shooting wads of paper through a drinking straw. Or, placing small woodland creatures in the teacher’s desk drawer. And I have no idea how wild leeks (known locally as ramps) got into the heating system of small classroom. (Looks away acting innocent). However, I always found myself trying to explain these things to an authority figure at the end of a long narrow hall. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I can hear the funeral march playing in my head. As I approach the office the door creaks open. The secretary looks at me empathetically and offers a blindfold. The door closes behind me. Surly the end is near. Okay, maybe that’s just a little melodramatic. But isn’t it odd how certain places bring up old feelings?

We think of ourselves as full grown adults but at heart we’re all still children. Children that are full of wonder and daydreams. And yes, sometimes a little irrational fear.

( The truth is I’ve never had a bad experience with anyone in this building. They’ve always been kind and helpful. )

Daydreams

Color Photography

Sometimes when I’m out in yard looking at the small stream that flows through my property it looks like a tiny raging river. I have made a concentrated effort to maintain and cultivate my Peter Pan Syndrome. I still toss leaves into the water and race them downstream. The small minnows in the eddies become sharks. A crayfish makes a fine sea monster and the rocks are islands that are ripe for expiration. Who said that being a grown-up means that there’s no time for daydreaming? Gene Roddenberry once said that the best part about the success of Star Trek was having a nice office to daydream in. He made a successful career out of pretending to have adventures in the vastness of outer space. Sure, he used the format to tell morality plays and make important comments about society but in my mind’s eye I can see him with a toy Enterprise having space battles with Klingons. I’ll bet that when nobody else was in the room he even made the “pew pew” sounds of Phasers and photon torpedoes. I have seen a lot of writers post about the finer points of creativity and how to properly relate your story to the audience but it all starts with holding onto a daydream.

The Last Time Falling In Love

black and white photography

Some of my coworkers on my day job were talking about their first love today. One was describing her first boyfriend and how he always smelled nice. One spoke of his first girlfriend and her blue eyes. This went on for several minutes. The fond memories of youth are special indeed. As I sat eavesdropping one of my older friends made the observation that his favorite memories were not about his first girlfriend but his last one. “Your last love is your true love, and that’s the one that counts.” He said.

Tonight’s image was taken in Hawk’s Nest State Park. The graffiti was not done by me. While it made for an interesting picture I have ask the reader to please respect public property as well as private property.