Postcard Friday

Here is a look at downtown Spokane Washington on the corner of Main & Post. This postcard was taken many years before I was born judging by the cars but what a sight it is to see the old Pay Less Drug store, a favorite haunt for my mother. She bought her Breck shampoo there and browsed the sales.  She loved the after Christmas sale and purchased cards for the next year.

It is easy to spot the Pratt Furniture Store, a long time business downtown. My husband and I bought our first pieces of furniture there on their installment plan. It was a dinette set with chairs. Across the street from the furniture store was the Post Street Theater. One screen and they had ushers who made sure you minded your manners. The theater some times held the Children's Theater's live plays.

Further down is the old Montgomery Ward's store. It is an Art Deco-styled building that has been restored and houses our city hall. What fun it is to visit days gone by in pictures unchanged and still as good as the days you last visited.

Is Your Childhood Home Ever the Same?

I had time to kill before I went to my temporary job assignment this morning. It is within a mile of the house I grew  up in so I had plenty of time to stop and have a look.

For a number of years I have meant to stop and ask the owners if I could take a rubbing of my brother's footprint on the sidewalk leading to the house...the footprint of an eager child tempting the fate of wet cement. He had red hair and all the charms a little boy can possess with a mischievous little smile.

Growing up I would run up that sidewalk and put my foot inside the footprint, hoping that finally my foot would fit perfectly. It was a wonderful game, all the sweeter because this was a brother I never met. I was born ten months after he passed away in an accident inside our home. he was three months shy of his fifth birthday.

It was a freak accident in a home full of running children and a multitude of remodeling projects.  In those days, great big old houses were remodeled to look new inside. The sheet rock of choice was double lathe plaster and a few sheets were stacked along the wall in the long hallway. Unfortunately, those sheets fell on him and he was killed instantly.

I can only imagine how things changed but one thing I know for certain is that I don't want him to ever be forgotten. That footprint though, is no longer there. I wish I had gone there years ago. The sidewalk that is there now is not new. It is old. It is pitted. I had to remind myself that the footprint was made more than sixty years ago. I have not lived there since 1969 when I graduated from high school.

The curb we had so much skipping along is crumbling...and there is a house in our garden. The Lilacs are all gone too. So too is the huge crab apple tree the older kids climbed up to secretly smoke, telling us they were playing rocket ships.

Every thing is changed and why not! It is a whole new era. However, when I was younger a family who had lived in the house before us were happy to see the garden thriving, the Lilacs blooming and the apple tree so tall. The flowers circled two Honey Locust trees that shaded the house ( now gone) and the grass just rolled so thick to the border of the garden.

I am sentimental, sometimes sad, but I realized that time has really gone by and I still have my memories, sweeter than the reality of that sad street I saw this morning. And it is okay.

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is a day to honor our mothers here and in heaven.  Spring is finally here and I am loving it. Yesterday we planted all of our flower pots and today I am just relaxing and enjoying the view.
As I type this I see our lilac bushes just beginning their glorious season. The Lilac Festival has begun and this is going to be one of those years when the lovely flowers will actually be blooming for the parade.

My dear Mother loved Lilacs and filled our home with jars and vases full of that fragrant blossom for as long as the season held out. We had a tall hedge along our yard, providing shade and privacy from a busy street. In our garden, we had a huge round bush that was a highlight of our block. From top to bottom, the blooms were so lovely that it gave many pleasure when mom cut large bouquets to share.

Mother has been gone for seventeen years yet I can still feel her pleasure in simple things of beauty. Those simple things are often the most wonderful things in life. Maybe because they seem to conjure up most of my memories.