Saturday, July 7, 2012

Time to Wrap Up the Memories....

 Scenes from the past--mainly for family. During the Korean War period, my father was stationed there. My mom and I were unable to join him, so we lived with her parents on my grandfather's hobby-farm south of Cincinnati. We were there a couple of years, long enough for me acquire a taste for idyllic rural living. There was always something going on, places to go, people to see, cows to help milk, kittens, dogs, gardens, a house full of antique Victorian furniture, no TV and a couple of grandparents who must have spoiled me rotten...I was so damn lucky!!      Some earliest memories are of wading and playing further upstream in this cute little creek.  Minus the threat of the graffiti-painters. of course.

 This iconic country lane is all that I can recognize of the farm. The house is gone; oddly with all the hyper-development around the airport, the interstate highways, the racetrack, the shopping malls, the land itself remains raw, a green spot at the intersection of two big highways. No exit ramps near enough, I guess. Of course, it's a no-man's land. Just past the far line of shrubs, we found a litter of dirty mattresses, a swatters camp. We retreated fast, snapping this photo at the end of the lane.

 One cheerful spot, a neighbors home down the road. Occupied and kept even nicer than it was 60 years ago when I would visit with my grandfather, playing on the brightly linoleumed kitchen floor, crawling around underfoot; children and puppies do this hoping for treats, I think. On the current trip, we found the owner, who used to come over in the evenings and milk the cows for my grandfather--a ritual I hated to miss. At that time he was a "James Dean"-like figure, young and handsome in jeans and a t-shirt; now he is 86, a tall, stately, reserved but kindly Kentucky gentleman.

I'm glad I got this photo: the business, founded in 1928 to provide ice for refrigeration to the area, will close soon. Tho still run by the same family, only bagged ice, liquor, cigarettes and snack foods are sold.  'In the day, we would pile into my grandfather's army surplus jeep; he, my mom and I--aged about 3--standing on the gear box, holding onto whatever I could and bumping along the country road and the Dixie Hwy into town. I remember this; it was fun! At Dusing's we'd probably pick up several big glass bottles of drinking water for my grandmother, bags of feed for chickens---the bags were made of colorful print fabrics---so a lady had to come along to pick up the prettiest fabric and make sure there was enough. There were treats, too. My favorite was Red Cream Soda--I still like it.      

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Too busy to keep up "reading" reports: I'll catch up now. "The Hanged Man of Saint-Pholien" by George Simenon. ...