YOU CAN GO HOME AGAIN

...but "the green, green grass of home"
       is gone...and the people...
---------------
"But as for man, his days are as the
      grass...".  Psalms 103: 15

1100 REID, CLOVIS (1940-48)

THE BACKYARD

That nice little two BR home where 

we lived in Clovis for eight years is

almost eighty years old, and still

looks good--with a new roof and new

stucco.

The neighborhood where all we

little kids grew from young 'uns to

teenagers is no longer green with

clover lawns, bushes, shrubs, and

full flower beds. Green is rare...

The elms, many of them thirty feet

tall, mostly all died later on in the

fifties and sixties. Today the 

neighborhood looks a bit barren. 

The whole world was young then,

 it seemed.

The streets are all paved and have

curbs. The vacant lots where the

boys played baseball and fought 

WWII are no longer vacant. There

are no farm animals around there any-

more--no chickens, cows, rabbits,

and horses, with their little white 

sheds  and pens. 

Gardening, such as every house had 

in WWII doesn't seem to be popular

anymore. Not to be heard in present

times are the B24's and B29's which

were  based at the Clovis AAFB during

The Big One and droned around the

outskirts of town constantly...on hot

summer days.

FDR is not to be heard on the old-tube-

Philco radios, with his "fireside chats..."

Gone also are Fibber and Molly, Bob

Hope, Red Skelton, Amos & Andy, 

People Are Funny, Tom Mix, Superman,

Henry Aldrich, Queen For A Day, and

all those good radio shows.

And how could any "go home again,"

to a neighborhood without all our

friends who lived there: Donald, 

Charles, James, Michael, Sherry,  

Sonya,L. Barbara, Frances, Pat, 

Douglas, Art and Bobby Joe? 

Those kids have all gone...some-

where.

And who can ever forget Ms. 

Purselly, an older woman up the

street, who had the only telephone

on the block. Just north of her lived

that cute blonde actress Priscilla 

Lane, whose husband was stationed

at the air base, five miles west of 

town. 

I have thought a few times about 

what it would be like to buy the "old

home place," as the farm folks used

to describe their homes-- and putting

in eight or nine nice trees around that

corner, planting a new lawn (with

clover, in memory of Dad, who liked

clover), shrubs, waxy bushes, and 

even a white picket fence...and having

it as an escape home...seasonal or

 whatever.

But it would cost many times 

the original price of the house in 1940,

and then you've got security, upkeep,

and the problems associated with an

extra property. Renting is iffy.

Also Mom and Dad wouldn't be there;

They are in Beulah Land. So at my age

I'll just remember my boyhood home...

    "You can go home again,"

         if only in happy memory...

(Besides all that, I still see and

correspond with two of my little neighborhood friends--

        Art and Bobby Joe.)

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Mil

25 JUNE 2019