Backward In Time
Backward in time I turn today
And pretend to be a child at play.
Stroll with me down memory lane
As I forget my cares and become a child again.
Back to the old one-room school house of yore
I stand on the flat limestone step at the front door.
As I look in there's my friends with me
And young kids once more are we.
There is the eight-day Roman numeral clock.
In the quietness of the room, I can hear it's loud tick-tock.
If you should misbehave or act up a bit,
You must go up to the corner and on a stool sit.
Hard work and book study we know
Makes us ready for play to go.
I cherish my friends from the past
As their friendships continue to last.
The school house stood on a low grassless hill.
The remains are no longer standing there still.
The oak trees which did adorn her
Served as bases for "Pussy In The Corner."
Values were stressed more then than now
And things didn't change so much somehow.
The hills and valleys we did run
As we played and had so much fun.
Sometimes a game got a little rough
And we'd quit and play "Blind Man's Bluff."
Then if this began lacking in fun,
We'd play "Fox and Hound" so we could run.
We often played "Anti-Over" at recess.
Each side did their dead-level best
To make an exchange to the other wall;
And to keep the other side from catching the ball.
Spelling matches were a frequent treat
And I was one of the hardest to beat.
Each Friday afternoon of the week
We played games such as "Hide-And-Seek."
We used string, an old tin can, and a button of bone
To construct a wired-up telephone.
We were pioneers with the telephone
And our callers were always well-known.
I can yet see the old grape vine
Near the grave yard fence where it did twine.
Down the hill the spring water flowed
And to get there we followed the winding road.
From school sometimes we would delight
To go home with friends to spend the night.
We'd pop pop-corn and like as not
We'd make sugar taffy in a cast iron pot.
As I returned from a day at school, I'd see Katie's store
And the starched white apron she usually wore.
Her dress was a good sized gingam check
And she wore it buttoned-up at the neck.
Then on up the graveled road on the hill top,
We'd pass Uncle Bob Carroll's blacksmith shop.
Beside the dirt road along the hill
The Burns' family are no longer there still.
Neighbors often gathered to express their humor
And to learn the latest gossip and the recent rumor.
They never hurried and didn't refuse
To linger a bit and exchange the latest news.
Whispering sometimes you'd see a shake of the head
As they'd tell cautiously what so-and-so said.
Some would many strange eerie stories tell
Where it seemed to cause a magic spell.
Out the road in another direction
The Waddell's owned a farming section.
They often discussed questions with talk of books
And the women folk were marvelous cooks.
Friends would often visit here and there
And rest their tired bones in a straight-back chair.
It was always safe to assume
They'd be sitting and chatin' in the sittin' room.
There are many deserving mention
To which I should call your attention.
Many deserve to have flowers
And I could talk and write about them for hours.
Old folks never want to miss
An opportunity to reminisce.
A penalty listeners have to pay
Is to listen and wonder how'd the old folks get that way.
I enjoyed this little trip in the past
And I hope it won't be the last.
I thank you for your kind attention
As there are people and places I failed to mention.
Author: Edith Bastin © Copyright: May 01, 2000. All Rights Reserved.
Main Page
Get your own Free Home Page