Time Marches On...

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

and so does the passage of youth.

I was at my Mom's house in Ohio over the past couple of days, and we decided to take a road trip to visit the various houses I had lived in when I was growing up. Two of the houses were still there, modified over the years of course, but I could still visualize the way they were when I was little boy.

When we drove out to the township I first lived at to search for the house I can still remember (vaguely), much to my initial dismay and then sadness, the house was gone...not modified, but GONE! The little house by the pond I spent the first 5 years of my life was gone...obliterated...demolished.

And I began to ponder...that no matter how much we try to hold on to our youth, we cannot, because time marches on...with or without us. No matter how much we mourn the passing of our youth, sometimes the things we hold most dearly, like the little house by the pond, disappear in the physical sense, either by Mother Nature or by Man, as time marches on.

Although I still hold those memories of the little house by the pond deep within my heart, it still pains and saddens me that the actual little house by the pond is but a mere ghost to those who knew it, and an empty lot to those who never did.


DammitWomann September 23, 2009 at 6:30 PM  

I know exactly what you mean - and feel. It's just another feeling of our "lost youth."

Anonymous September 23, 2009 at 10:57 PM  

Happiest time in my life was first thru third grade in the mid 50s in Lovington, NM. I intend to drive out there one day and retrace my steps where I used to walk to school by myself.

Weekends, I'd walk all the way across town to play with my best friend. We didn't have phones so we just walked over to see if the other could play. In between was the downtown square and a movie theater where we'd watch Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin movies.

It was desert so to cool off, we'd just slip into the drug store and walk around reading the comic books till we caught our wind then back to the sidewalks.

Roller skates clamped to the shoe soles with a skate key. Everybody had one pair of shoes. You couldn't put skates on tennis shoes. Didn't want tennis shoes!

Tommy September 25, 2009 at 2:21 AM  

I dislike getting older VERY intensely!

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