One of my earliest memories is peeling apples in my grandmother’s kitchen. This is also one of my happiest and warmest memories! No room in the house was short on love, but this was where she spent most of her time. She had some wonderful recipes, but nothing will ever taste as good as when she cooked it. Her whole house was spun with magic. I can remember every aspect of it with great clarity even though it’s been gone since around Thanksgiving of 1967. We lived on 82nd Street and Division Avenue in East Lake until the “Great Freeway” moved us out and tore everything down. It lives on in my memory and in the memories of all who loved it. My dreams transport me there regularly.
My mother and daddy, two brothers and I lived next door to my grandparents and Mother’s three sisters. All of us, along with some of the neighbors, moved between our houses like one big family. In the summer, we spent evenings under the big oak tree. We barbequed and made ice cream talking into the night when it would be a little cooler in the house. Two of my aunts married when I was young and moved to Georgia, but came back often. We had huge Christmas celebrations together and never seemed to get tired of each other. At least the children didn’t! My Aunt Lora didn’t marry until I was almost out of high school. She had an extra long time to spoil us!
We didn’t sit around the television except in the coldest part of the winter. We played games outside until they made us come in. It was such a simple, special time when parents didn’t have to worry about children being outside alone and the children never even thought of being scared. No computer games, remote controlled cars or dolls that talked, just a lot of imagination and energy. It is amazing that we had so much fun at so little expense.
I remember when I had my first pizza at the age of ten. It was from Carnaggio’s on 77th Street and 1st Avenue, North and it was wonderful. My baby brother’s face would be covered in pizza sauce. Our first fast food hamburgers came from McDonald’s in Roebuck. We couldn’t afford them very often and could choose between two hamburgers or one and an order of fries. My grandmother kept little bottles of Coca Cola for when her stomach was upset and would let us have one occasionally. My daughters look at me in wonder when I tell them these things. Could there be such a thing as a day without sodas and fast food?
Yes, the good times really were when we had less and did more. We were a close family and close neighborhood and I miss it, but I’ll always REMEMBER!
Laura Blanton
Copyright 1995
