Tag: summer

Ice Cream Cones and Car Rides

Brenda Stratton

Some lazy summer evenings, after supper and the dishes were done, we’d head to the Tastee Freeze for ice cream before taking a slow drive through town.

It was nothing special, but it was a chance to get out of the house and do something different. 

We waved to people we knew, and slowly drove the familiar streets.   

We saw children playing in the yard, people watering flowers, and lights coming on in windows.

We weren’t spying on anyone. We were simply enjoying the feeling of a town settling in for the evening. 

There was something comforting about seeing porch lights come on and families gathered inside their homes. Even then, I think I was quietly wondering what their stories were.

We didn’t know everyone, of course, in a community of over three thousand people. But we had been born and raised in this small town, and so had our children. It was our town, and these were our people, whether we knew them all or not.

I have always been a listener, an observer. I had no way of knowing back then, but all of these little moments were quietly tucked into the back of my mind, and now they seem to be clamoring to be told. 

Our lives were pretty ordinary. We worked hard, took care of our family, and built a life that made us happy. 

At the time, those evenings were pleasant but they didn’t seem to be more than that. They were simply a way for our family to spend an evening together.

Looking back, I realize they were far more than that. 

They gave me a sense of belonging—to my family and to my community. I didn’t think of it in terms of contentment then, but I know now that’s exactly what it was. I was content, and I was home. 

The Train Tracks In Our Front Yard

Brenda Stratton

Just beyond the boundary of our front yard, a railroad track ran east toward Viola and west toward Aledo. We were in between the two, but closer to Aledo.

Dad and Monty always kept our yard neatly mowed. But the strip along the tracks — the part that belonged to the railroad — was left alone. There weren’t many weeds, just tall grass.

Monty and I liked to play in it. We would mash the grass down with our feet, and those flattened spots became forts or little houses.

We spent many summer afternoons there, in the sunshine and fresh air, pretending.

Sometimes a train would come by. They didn’t go very fast, and they weren’t very long. Most were only eight or ten cars — sometimes less, sometimes more — and always with a caboose.

We knew to stay back in the yard and away from the tracks when the trains passed.

Later, I learned that it was a spur line, and the trains were delivering freight to local businesses.

Sometimes the engineer had his window open, with his arm resting on the sill. We waved, and they often waved back.

Sometimes, a handcar would come along, with two men pumping the handles to make it go.

We always thought those were funny to watch.