A Stroll...er Through My Mind

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When I made my debut into the 1959 world of burgeoning innovations, my mother put me in a monstrously huge pram and showed me the sites of her world. Yes, I know that, as a baby, everything seems disproportionately big and then shrinks as you grow older. (In fact, lately I've noticed this shrinkage has been getting worse -- my bank account, my hair, my attention span. I've gotten to where I'm afraid to look at myself naked.) But back when I was a baby, well, if my pram had had a motor, I'm quite confident I could have given NASCAR a run for their money.

Fortunately, I was born into a very inventive age. Six years later in 1965, Owen Maclaren put his engineering talents to work and developed the first umbrella type stroller. I didn't know anything about it until twenty years later when my (now former) wife convinced me that we had to have one -- she was pregnant. So, it was my beautiful baby daughter who got to ride in this evolved Maclaren stroller.

Her baby carriage was a technological marvel that would have made you think of the Transformers. Reaching into the depths of our car, I would whip out a cane that had wheels at the end. With a flick of the wrist and a few sounds of "Eenk Ank Ornk Onk", my cane magically transformed into a magnificent stroller capable of carrying an adorable baby, parental life-support in the form of a 50 pound diaper bag and several sacks of groceries. (The "Eenk Ank Ornk Onk" was my modified scream as I sometimes clumsily pinched my fingers in the metal frame during its transformation. Those words were much preferred to the earthier phrases that my innocent child gleefully parroted after my first painful outburst. I wonder what Optimus Prime says when he pinched himself while transforming?)

Oh well, those sweet days of buggy rides are now gone. Perhaps when I'm in my eighties, I'll return to a stroller fitting my age. Hopefully, you'll find me throttling downhill in an adult sized hamster ball in pursuit of the sound barrier ...

One of Those Rare Days That I Can't Relive

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On one breathtaking autumn day, I traded the stuffy confines of my house for the Presidential Mountain Range of New Hampshire. My living room became a carpet of off white, golden yellows, deepening reds and dark greens. My walls and ceiling were transforming as a sunset darkened the heavenly blues of the sky and brought forth brilliant streaks of orange and violet in the clouds. My entertainment system had become the orchestrated drama of a life-giving sun slowly reaching down to kiss the twilight of the horizon. I sat in the home theater seating of a majestic mountain side as the thunderous songs of birds and crickets and frogs crescendoed into sudden silence as the last arc of sunlight slipped behind the end of an adventurous day. It was a moment that you want to live repeatedly but can only hope that the fuzzy memories of your mind will let you relive that the unspeakable joy in your spirit always.

My Children Grew Up Too Quickly

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One day my children were just learning to walk. And then I blinked and found my two oldest children in their 20s and my youngest in high school. I still love them even though they are older but I miss those carefree days of when they were little. They had a way of brightening up whatever room they were in. And not only because they wouldn't turn off the lights. They were, and still are, a joy to be around.

I was reflecting on this as I went through boxes of books and toys that they had as young children. There were old Dr. Seuss books, their favorite stuffed animals, and a box with kids bedding and their sleeping bags of the Little Mermaid and of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. While these sleeping bags have faded over time, my memories of my children camping out in them are vibrant in color and sound. It's as if everything happened yesterday. So it will be with a touch of deep sadness as I give some of their old childish possessions to Goodwill. But they've grown up now, which is a good thing. Who wants kids that have grown sideways? I have learned a lot of things from them -- like patience ... and that the thirstiest child is the one who just went to bed. I may be getting rid of a lot of unwanted toys, but I'll still have lots of fond memories of my children until the day I die.

Miss Those Special Times With My Children

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When my children were young, we would make our own Christmas decorations. I fear that my ex has most of them buried in that environmental controlled building known as her sister's barn with a lot of my other valuable stuff. If you have children, perhaps you know about the joy of creating special knick knacks and of the fun of being together. Anyway, here is a great site for creating 3D snowflakes. Enjoy!

Drive-In Movies

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I spent my high school years nestled in the curves of the White Mountains of New Hampshire in the small town of Gorham. Even though there was less than three thousand people in the town, we had a drive-in movie theater perched on top of Gorham hill. The drive-in was like a huge, white flag, just inviting people from the surrounding counties to stop and visit --- which they did. It would open just after Memorial day and close just before Labor day every year. I have a lot of fond memories of my friends and my family making a big deal out of going there. It wasn't so much about going to see the movie as it was about socializing and building kinship.

A few years ago, when I returned to Gorham to bury my mother, I found that the drive-in had also passed on. Its remains had been covered by streets and new houses. The only thing left are the fond memories of those who shared its cinema glow. I miss those days.