Posts Tagged ‘nostalgia’

Ever see something and it reminds you of something, which reminds you of something else, which . . .

. . . And you look up and realize that thirty minutes have ticked by while you’ve been wandering the warrens of memory?

Yeah. That. I had one of those yesterday. But unlike most of these aimless treks through lost pathways, on this one I was able to retrace my steps and remember how I’d gotten from Point A to Point Z. (more…)

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I’d heard of them long before I saw one in the wild. Rare, elusive, they were things of power and legend. Sure, I saw them in movies, but I knew those were fakes; we all did.

The C-note. The Benjamin. One hundred smackeroos.

I was nine years old when I saw my first one.

We were at Tiburon Tommie’s, the Chinese restaurant of my youth, a place where the drinks menu was long and fixed, and the food menu was short and subject to change. (more…)

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I don’t know what got me thinking of this, but my fellow old farts will remember these things…

Ring me.

Get off the line!

Dial the number.

Hang up.

I wonder how puzzling these phrases are to younger folks? The phones of the mid-20th century were so different from what we have now, when having a “land line” is starting to be considered quaint. (more…)

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Mahonia after rain….and we’re stopping.

When I was a boy, I walked to school. From Greenfield Avenue down the Miracle Mile, onto 4th Street, stop for a moment under the vent at Bordenave’s Bakery to take in the scent of fresh sourdough, then on to H St, 5th Ave, and West End Elementary. It was just under a mile, but it seemed a long way to my 5th grade legs.

When I graduated to 7th grade I switched to Davidson Middle School, down on Woodland Avenue. It was twice as far (a mile and a half away), but I walked there, too. My parents didn’t know that I walked all that way; not until one day, halfway through the 8th grade when I came home soaked to the skin, having gotten caught in the rain. All that time, they thought I had been taking the bus. (more…)

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