Write Again … The fields of our dreamsPublished 5:41pm Monday, September 16, 2013
Among the good memories I have from my growing-up years are the many times my father would share his own memories of his growing-up years.
He would tell me of his childhood friends — I learned each’s name — in Monroe.
My father had three older living sisters, and there were two older brothers who died in childhood before he was born.
Then, his father died when my father was 12, and life changed.
His mother, my grandmother Molly, closed the “big house” and went to live with one of the daughters.
My father particularly relished telling of his years in Macon, Ga., where, while living with his sister Yorke, her husband Bill and his niece Yorke, he attended Lanier High School.
It was there that he played football and ran track. It remained the place of his fondest memories all of his life. My mother would say that my father thought that if he went to heaven when he died it would really be Macon. Such were his good memories of that time in his life.
And so, the picture with this column is of two football buddies. One who played in the mid-’20s, and one who played in the ’50s and early ’60s.
He also played at a junior college in the western part of the state. The college is no longer there. My post-high school playing days were one year at Wake Forest University and two years in the service.
My Pop had his sweet memories, and I know beyond doubt that he truly enjoyed “being there” during my playing days.
And I, too, have my sweet memories.
APROPOS — “Memory is the diary that we carry about with us.” — Oscar Wilde