As tomorrow is New Year’s Eve it is time to revisit my childhood. The year I turned 8, we moved to the suburbs leaving behind the only home I had known since birth. No more swinging in the cherry tree in the backyard, swimming in the green plastic pool with my 2 cousins who lived upstairs, no more trick or treating or roller skating on the block, or running to the tiny corner grocery store for a missing ingredient or just a quart of milk. We traded a small downstairs apartment next to my Aunt Bernice’s neighborhood beauty parlor for a more spacious brick home with a large backyard. I felt sad and lonely and remember keeping some cherries I picked off the tree in a little plastic box when my sister and brother, Mother and Father pulled away in the car, headed for our new home.
The new house was a marvel, with a radio in the kitchen wall, a built in oven framed in white brick and a mud room for when we came in the back door and needed to wash before dinner. My sister and I shared a roomy bedroom painted pink with a big white dresser, large closet, and twin headboards upholstered in a white and black zebra print. My sister who was 3 years older than me and much braver played her small transistor radio every night and stared out the windows at the starry sky, while I made sure to keep the covers up around my neck hoping this was enough to keep the boogeyman at bay.
One day while exploring the house, I ventured into the garage and found an old washboard my Mother used to scrub items that were particularly dirty. I picked it up and looked thru the rows of wavy glass, surprised at the way everything was transformed, like looking through a kaleidoscope! Familiar items took on a dream-like quality, the dining room table looked like it was 12 foot long, the basement steps went on for what looked like half a mile, the backyard garden of tomato and green pepper plants looked like a surreal farmer’s field, and our German Shepherd dog, Duke, looked like a big, friendly wolf lolling under the kitchen dinette. Everything was different, I wasn’t afraid anymore, my mind had imagined the worst, and I realized our fears can affect our reality. Suddenly I was in some kind of fascinating wonderland, and suddenly the new house became home. My home. I couldn’t wait for Christmas to look at the tree thru this new looking glass, imagining the sparkly ornaments, the tinsel and the treetop shining with new purpose.
For months I walked around using the Rub-A-Dub, and it colored my moods with sunshine and even allowed me to venture my hands or feet outside the blanket at night, because there really was nothing to fear anymore. When September came, I started 3rd grade and made many new friends, and we rode our bikes together and laughed and played at each other’s houses. The Rub-A-Dub was put back into the garage, because between school work and my friends I was too busy to walk around with a piece of wood and glass pressed against my nose–there was outdoor fun and games and life was good, very good!
For over 2 years now the world has lived with a mask pressed against their mouth and nose, and with fear that we too could be infected by invisible germs floating everywhere. It’s past time to start living again–really living, breathing the fresh air everywhere, and making a resolution that January 1st marks a new beginning.
Two thoughts for the New Year:
“Very little is needed to live a happy life, it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.”
–Marcus Aurelius–
“Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your inner voice.”
–Steve Jobs–
