I went for a walk this evening. It was a beautiful day but I was lost in thought. No matter where I went people were present, and, for once, other people were the last thing I wanted. Making my way up through the Hollow to the lake and back around through the Hollow up to campus and down the the elementary schools my mind reeled over the world in which we live and the reasons for change.
As I swung back and forth on a swing, a little redheaded girl came running over to swing near me as her mother watched from a nearby bench. It occurred to me as I watched the girl get stuck upside down on the swing that a mere four years ago or so, that girl didn't exist in her mother's life. In one night that woman's life changed and nine months later it would never, ever be the same.
After they left I continued to swing, staring around me at what once had been part of my everyday life. That "big toy" over there was brand new when I started the second grade. I wandered over to the parallel bar, remembering how I'd had to jump to reach it when I first gave it a try. The short metal swing was gone, replaced by jail bars of cerulean blue for the safety of the children who play on it. Looking around the playground the garish plastic monstrosity the kids play on now disappeared, replaced by a small little thing of dark stained wood with a metal slide and a tire swing. Over there had been a HUGE slide that was removed due to it's inappropriate height and another set of swings. That used to be a jungle gym. Oh, how simple life had been then!
I wandered back the swings and sat down, swinging slowly and singing, looking over at the town. There's the pavilion and... hang on. I squinted to make sure it wasn't a mirage. Jumping from the swing I grabbed my phone and sunglasses and headed over in that direction.
Rusty swings, a metal zip line and a square of loose gravel were all that remained of the lower playground. I stood amidst the carnage, very aware that my childhood had suddenly become ancient history, and it struck me to the core. Here, on this place where I stood, had been a large wood and plastic gym with a tubed slide and the perfect monkey bars. All that remains are the memories... watching my two best friends walk arm and arm under the bridge... trying to climb up the inside of the tube... perfecting skipping two bars each swing on the monkey bars... one of my friends, who was still unable to pump, swing on the swings...
I remember in high school when I first learned all of the history of my town. The stairs leading to the lower playground had once been part of an elementary school that stood on the location of the Branch Library, and one fine summer's day I found the brick cornerstones of a classroom in the grass. It was an amazing moment, to find proof that the infamous building really had existed.
I realized, lost in the haunts of my childhood, that years from now, when I return to my hometown with my children for a visit, I will take them to that spot and say, "When I was your age..." New books would be written about New Concord's history, mentioning the old days of the Fireman's Festival and that wooden toy wouldn't be mentioned at all. Instead it will be a story, passed from generation to generation until someday, my great-great grandson will become a famous writer who places the plot in the good old backwoods of Southeastern Ohio and the story told by his great great grandmother will make an appearance, along with that wooden plaything of yore.
The spring in my step was gone as I trudged down to main street. Cars flew by, lights flickered. Creno's Pizza was a floodlight onto the street, the kids inside laughing and chatting with their friends at work. Strains of a piano floated out from the house across the street as I passed. I began to wish for the "good ol' days" back when everyone in my town knew everyone else, where the telephones were on the same line and you could catch gossip just by picking up the receiver, where television didn't exist yet and the lights were so few that stars could be seen in the night sky above. Friends could make an unannounced visit and be welcomed gladly as mothers kept time by the trains that went through town. I wish I had been part of those days. Even with the scares of the war, even with the hard times, it seems like a kinder time, a better generation.
I began my walk with the purpose of being alone in God's creation and I ended with the disheartening realities of an ever changing world. Nothing will ever be the same again.
