Remember these? Everyone had them on their porches and in front of their trailers. What treasures they are. We never owned any, but I remember hot summer nights when we were visiting people. We’d come outside after supper and sit in the dark on the porch, hoping to catch a cool breeze. A tall glass of sweet tea sat sweating in a puddle on the matching table beside you. The metal felt cool on your bare legs. Some were made with springs to allow you to rock…well, more like bounce, really.

We did our best to dissuade the beastly mosquitos…big enough to carry you back to the nest and share with the whole congregation. I am sure Kung Fu was invented because of that incessant buzzing near your ear. As dusk began to settle, the night watchmen came out in the form of lightning bugs (fireflies to some)…shining their neon green lanterns. Children ran around the yard with canning jars and lids to catch them. I had a country cousin who squished their little tail ends and put the glowing glob of gut goo on her fingers and wrists for a kind of macabre jewelry. It was great fun then but decidedly unappealing now…the squishing of bugs for adornment.

In the distance, the distinct call of the whippoorwill sent a sigh of contentment around the old folks. Such a mournful, sweet call that is more and more difficult to find these days. One evening, as we listened to the far off call of the whippoorwill, we heard an earth shattering scream that sounded like a woman getting attacked. Almost instantly, the bird call stopped in mid-“poor” and grandpa told us the bobcat got it. The circle of life is learned early on the farm.

I spotted these beauties rusting in the New Mexico sun, lined up in a throwback vintage trailer park and couldn’t resist snapping a few photos of them. I could just imagine the women sitting out here with their sun hats, play suits, spectator pumps…cosmos in hand, ice tinkling as their laughter filled the air. The husbands stood off to the side, carefully pressed white shirts tucked into their sharply pleated chinos….discussing “manly” things like cars and sports and politics. Children played Red Rover and Kick the Can as they dodged between the sleek and shiny Airstreams and the smaller Shastas that housed them on their travels.

I’ve been feeling oddly reminiscent this week. I guess I’m longing for a more genteel time when words weren’t so easily turned into weapons and Lawrence Welk distracted us from more pressing matters. Danny Thomas and Red Skelton, Minnie Pearl and Grandpa Jones. I Love Lucy. Comfort shows. I am tired of feeling scared by the media. I have to remind myself who’s REALLY in charge here. That soothes my mind.

❤️

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”

Psalm 13:5-6 NIV