As a young child I heard talk of Reds (i.e. communists), coal mine slate falls, suicides, hard times, hobos and depression. I didn’t know the meaning of any of this until my dad lost his job and had to move to Kentucky to find another. It was only then that I realized that things had changed, for my family left me with grandparents until I could finish third grade.

In my preschool life I was a favored child. Living near my grandparents, with aunts and uncles gave me a leg up, not to mention that I was the first grandchild on my mother’s side. I suppose that I must have been at least a little bit spoiled and perhaps overprotected.

I didn’t like the idea of going off to school. I liked my life as it was and I wasn’t ready for a change, especially since my uncle, a teenager, teased me about having to go. I went just the same. The next three years seemed like the dumbest of my life. Lots of the other boys had older brothers to help them be wiser than us first-borns. They knew the rules to games we played and how to win. I have to give the schools of my youth credit for having recess. It gave the kids a break from their routine to get some fresh air and exercise. Recess no doubt helped prevent obesity so rampant today, so the story goes. It’s too bad that nearly all elementary schools have eliminated recess from their schedules. Recess was my favorite subject, er activity, in grammar school.

Leaving Grandma to join my family in Kentucky was a bittersweet move. I enjoyed living with Grandma, a very good friend. Except for leaving her, I was glad to go live with my family. At least they wouldn’t call me Bulldog. I wasn’t happy about the way I got that name, crying over lost marbles.

My musings were interrupted by the arrival of some of my progeny. My firstborn son, David, came and stayed for nine days. That was a major interruption, especially since he volunteered to move all my stuff from one room to another where I now reside. The quarters are better and may soon look better, but I don’t know where anything is, except for the big stuff. When that dude gets started on a project there’s no stopping him.

He wasn’t the only diversion. He was delayed for more than a day in beginning his task by the arrival of my granddaughter, Rachel, her husband Matt, and their two little daughters, Ava and Jane. They were on a farewell tour of friends and relatives prior to leaving for Scotland where they expect to start a new church. I can’t remember seeing two happier youngsters. It was a pleasure to have them around, at least for a little while.

It looks like I’ve lost my musing on scenes from my childhood. Perhaps I’ll try it again some other time.