The String That Binds

The town looks dead. Almost everyone is under one roof. It’s Sunday, time for church. Only sound coming from ear’s reach is the single church bell. Soon everyone is exiting. Shaking hands, thinking about changing  clothes so they could be worn the next Sunday.

Boys running in the yard. Parents telling them to stop running and rough housing as this could make their clothes soft. No gas stations open. Not a grocery store with unlocked doors. No Wal-Mart in place.

It was time to spend with family, gathered around the table. Saying grace and sharing food and good conversation. Afterwards, the men found a place to nap, or maybe went out to the barn. Kids went out to play.

Playing consisted of riding bikes, skipping rope, playing hula-hoop, hop scotch, playing tag. Women gossiped as they cleared the dishes and washed and dried them each by hand.

Imagination and mouths were used. Fingers got dirty. No WII, no X-box, no hanging around the street corners with shorts hanging below the crack. Hair was short and trimmed. Tattoos, what are those?

Listening to the family radio, swinging on the porch swing. Knitting and talk about new clothes that needed mended. Kids asked before they went to the ice-box. Respect was known by all. Manners were on the list.

Know of a family like this today? I bet they are around, but they are a rarity; I must admit. My how life has changed. I didn’t really notice it changing until I got in my older years. When my head shakes in negativity at the lack of clothing people wear today.

Next week is fair week here. I will hopefully be going on Sunday afternoon. This is the one day that is considered Free Day. You don’t have to pay to get in. I will sit on one of the bar stools of a local tent and have a bite to eat.

I will stroll around the grounds and look at the animals that are coming in to be judged. I will sit on the benches and people watch. I will shake my head at some of the things I will see, but I will thank God for giving me my life to live and making it to this moment.

Ever wonder what kind of clothing and material things will be popular when our kids or grandchildren are grown? As long as there is a string connecting God to families together, they will make it, just like I did.







13 thoughts on “The String That Binds

    • Yes, definitely, I can look back and hear some of the things my parents said, thinking they were nuts for talking about the way back past, but here I am, doing the same thing


    • Me too, but as we have adjusted to our lives today we may not remain homesick too long. For me, life should slow down, but I like how some things have been made easier such as the electric washer over old fashioned wringer types


  1. Pingback: Don’t Be Afraid Of The Dark, That’s Where The Stars Are | A Mixed Bag

  2. each generation reaches a point where they will look back….but not at what we saw….but instead, what they saw… is all relative…..the rap music today makes the hair stand up on my neck….but then my Beatles music drove my Grandmother out of my room……


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