Travelling with the Speed of Light

Travelling at the speed of light – and through time.

Day 2 Assignment.

Looking at old photographs, takes me to places where I used to be. The places are more easily remembered and called to life, than who I was.

Many a summer of my youth, I travelled by car or train to visit my mother’s family. It was a trip to an exotic place unlike my suburban life.

The place was northern Illinois and southern Wisconsin. My aunts and uncles had dairy farms. The land was flat and dominated with cornfields. Roads were dead straight until they made a turn at someone’s property line.

The town had a Holstein cow statue at the main intersection. It had one grocery store and one bar. By 1966, you had to lock your car and house. Small farm towns had changed.

I’ve only made two brief visits in the last thirty years, but I can describe at least five of their houses with floor plans and décor. I can remember the barns and the lines of cow rear ends and the sound of the milking machines. Up a ladder was a hayloft – a perfect spot to share secrets with my cousins.

cousins

My cousins. That’s me crying. Not how I remember the times.

The places between house and barn were filled with flower or vegetable gardens or corncribs. It’s where we chased the cats or started a game of kick-the-can. Nearby, there were orchards, where we ate crabapples or cherries until we were sick.

The place I remember best was the front yard of an aunt’s house. The place where we had family reunions and my grandmother was in charge.

Tall droopy pines shaded the area. In farm country where open sun-filled fields were required, a shaded spot was a miracle. Not that my cousins and I didn’t occasionally run off to the barn or a shed across the road.

My cousins. I’m on the right – a few years later.

 

Everyone arrived with more chairs, tables and food. Tables placed end to end in long chains were covered with tablecloths. Plenty of plates, silverware and bowls and platters of food filled every space on the tables.

For younger cousins, the chairs wobbling on an uneven grass lawn meant we cried from effort or falling and were gathered up on someone’s lap to be both consoled and scolded.

Our energetic curiosity meant we ran up the steps of the front porch and got in someone’s way. Activities were devised, if we already hadn’t run off somewhere. One year, my sister taught some of us to ‘fly’ – jumping from the loft down to a lower layer of hay bales.

Organized activities

Organized activities

The most memorable event was my grandmother gathering a few of us around and teaching us how to make a blade of grass whistle. My often stern grandmother, sitting on the lawn and taking time to impart this skill, was an amazing affair. She showed us how to hold the blade tightly stretched between our thumbs and then to blow. I can feel the tickle of it now.

It’s nice to remember my grandmother could be this woman.

My Grandmother

And not always this woman.

family 091 gm

Maybe I went to five reunions when I was young and one or two when I was living on my own in Chicago. Through the thoughts of my mind, I can revisit any time I want.

Even if I don’t quite recognize ‘this me.’

Me - 1950?

Me – 1950?

Where have you been – today?

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Travelling with the Speed of Light

  1. Thank you for sharing your wonderful pics and memories Lynn 🙂 some of my earliest memories are also of spending time on my great grandmother’s small farm, chasing chickens and milking the cow and drinking hot, frothing milk (not advised of course but delicious).

  2. Lynne, I just returned from my meditation/prayer group; the question under discussion was: “what comes to mind when you think of an important “place” in your life.” All manner of stories were told and here I find another one. Yours. WONDERFUL POST, THANK YOU!

What would you add or ask?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s