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A coat of many colors. I suppose good people nowadays do not understand us folk that grew up with love as a priority.
Our life work is not controlled by anyone, but loved by everyone.
My coat was made of many colors and of many people. I relax in that.
My mom sewed. My sisters sewed. I wore hand me downs and loved em. My first pair of basketball shoes already had holes in them from my brother. Yes we actually played basketball to stay out of trouble, not because of the cool shoes.
I would first take a shovel and then the broom to clear a court for us to play in freezing weather and with gloves on. Snow was great it kept the ball from going to far on a miss. We were black, we were white, Red and brown along with some yellow and some other stuff.
Fouls were called on honor and bloody and broken noses were normal. I would have to say we loved each other, although none of us contemplate such matters.
I kind of use basketball as a metaphor for a simpler time.
Back to the coat of many colors.
There was a time when you just made do. No credit except for maybe for a week at the local grocery store. You had a checkbook and a pass book and that was that.
So at schools kids would show up wearing all kinds of different clothes somehow got together for going to school. There were no name brands. No current trends or styles. It was just wear what you got.
Then it started changing with mass advertising and credit cards. Somewhere back in the sixties or so you had to dress like other people or be mocked.
I remember spending a summer working with my grandpa who wore bib overalls, and so so did I. Oh the calamity when I showed up at school dressed that way.
For awhile if you did not have Converse Allstars, instead of Keds you were a retard.
This reminds me of those simpler days
Down at the waters edge we could spend hours skipping stones across the water. Longest flight, most skips and reaching the other side were some of the competitions.
Bamboo fishing poles were cool. But you had to buy them so willow branches were better.
Skate boards were just that, an old set of roller skate wheels nailed onto a board.
We straightened pulled nails to use again.
Gasoline was actually hand pumped into the truck.
Station wagons were really used to go to train stations and pick up travelers.
Whittling was actually done.
Happy days and a happy boy
The timing of my youth is probably different
I lived in a fairly isolate, by distance, small town. So "things" came to us slowly. I suppose it was like the 40's in big cities in the east. Our statehood was in the last four. My home state still has more dirt roads than paved. My family land is only one generation removed from Native Americans. So if you are thinking I am like 80 years old you would be wrong.
My mom and dad as far back as the 50's decided to move our family out of the city where life was just too fast paced and hectic. I reckon they bought us a few extra years of the good life.