Once

Once

By Lucinda Saue

Once I was a child in a family of 5, two younger sisters who happened to be fraternal twins, born 6 minutes apart. My Dad was a 2nd born son with 3 brothers and one sister, she was the youngest, “oops” baby born 7 years after the youngest boy. My Mom was also one of five, but in her family it was four girls and one boy, and Uncle Keith was the middle child.

Once we lived in Wisconsin, rich in family, cousins all around, many on dairy farms.

Once we enjoyed our cousins aunts and uncles for picnics, holidays-Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the 4th of July especially, birthdays, and reunions. As a kid I enjoyed the marvelous food, the stories, the jokes; but I had no clue the amount of work that went into each event. Granted, it was shared by all the adults, or mainly the women, but to me, as a child, it all magically appeared. We would arrive, the adults congregating by gender, the children, changing out of their church clothes, would take off to be outdoors and play hide and seek, or hike the farm, or play house. Children of my era were left to themselves, unchaperoned, at least until somebody got hurt. Jumping from the hay mow in the barn was prickly fun, exploring fields for fossils, jumping rope, climbing on playground equipment (some now banished from playgrounds as too dangerous!), swimming if a lake was handy. We enjoyed farm cats and dogs, observed the cows and avoided the mother cows who could turn fierce if their calves were nearby.

Once we dressed up for church. Girls wore only dresses and skirts for school. The Moms always wore dresses, pants and pedal-pushers were for everyday. Grandmas wore housedresses for everyday and never wore slacks.

Once we enjoyed popsicles that cost 5 cents, and Fudsicles for 10 cents. They were rare treats, as was candy. We rarely had soda pop at home, but in the summer we sometimes had floats.

Once we stayed outdoors all day long, on our own, roller skating, riding bikes, going to swimming lessons at local lakes, going to playground activities. We were driven indoors only by injuries or rain, or thirst, though we drank from the garden hose sometimes. We knew all the dogs in the neighborhood by name. We knew the houses that had candy to share, or the local bike repair guy.

Once we wandered to parks and school playgrounds, to libraries and their summer programs, to stores for treats. No worries for our safety or fears of abduction or harm.

Once the world was a friendly place, teeming with adventure and waiting to be explored. And summer seemed to last forever.