I still recall the feeling of belonging, being safe, secure, #authentic and connected to a higher purpose as I sat in that spot under the tree hearing the melodic trickling of the creek. I enjoy recalling this deeply embedded memory and sometimes revisit those moments as I dawn a pair of jeans, particularly when the legs are rolled-up a bit.
Our small town in the Willamette Valley of Oregon had two primary industries: forestry and a canning company supplied by the produce of our local farms. My first “real” job aside from babysitting was at a local green pole-bean farm a few miles outside of our small town, population 2,108.
On the warm July days, we began early while the dew still covered the raspy leaves of the beans. There were long rows of 5-foot poles supported with heavy wires at the top and bottom – string laced in v-formation between the wires to support the growing vines. I was 14 and looking forward to high school in one month, holding aspirations of earning enough money to purchase my wardrobe for this new, exciting adventure. A good friend Joan joined me.
My uniform was a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and an old white shirt of Dad’s, accented with a red bandana that served as a hair cover or neck scarf. In the early cool of the morning, we would walk the 100 feet or so down the row, carrying a 5-gallon bucket. She and I worked on opposite sides of the same row, facilitating conversations that only a teen could remember and telling the latest joke that we’d managed to find. Each time the bucket was full, I walked to the end of the somewhat muddy row to empty the contents into a gunnysack pleased as it fills.
As I revisit the memory, I loved the early morning cooler air and being outside. Our boss lady checked our work from time to time insuring that we were not breaking the vines or missing the low hanging muddy beans near the ground. I liked and admired her, thinking that I would not care to have her job. The other “best” of the job was lunchtime. Joan and I found a cool spot under an apple tree growing beside the creek. My preferred sandwich was olive loaf with pickled sandwich spread on Wonder Bread. There was a thermos with varied juice, depending on what was available that morning. Twinkies or Devil Dogs rounded out the lunch cuisine.
As I remember this girl on the cusp of independence, I enjoy her youth, curiosity, industry, and pleasure in connection to nature, the earth. She is still alive and an integral part of me.
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Thank you for bringing me back with memories of exciting moments from my childhood.
I remember quite a few moments in my life when I was 3 and I always wondered why, since everyone tells me they don’t remember anything of that age. So I tried to go deeper and discovered that the most recent studies would suggest that childhood memories are not gone, but are always kept in some nervous circuit but we can no longer access them. In short, the loss of childhood memories would be the price to pay for brain maturation that allows adults to become adults.
In my profile I have inserted a photo. It is from 1943, I was three years old and I still remember episodes related to that period.
Then I must consider myself to be a subject to be studied, because my flashes of that age, and not much later, are not only clear in my mind, and quite detailed, but when I had the opportunity to ask for confirmation to those who as an adult I he lived close to that time, some of those events were confirmed to me.
I do not know. Certainly these episodes are almost always positive then they gave birth to values / convictions / interests that I still cherish.
Lovely Kathleen! There are so many I remember my mother often giving us Jello for dessert and potato sticks as a special treat on Sunday evenings. She was ahead of her time in terms of limiting unhealthy snacks. I also recall being elated as we anticipated the annual televised special of the Wizard of Oz. Such delights were never taken for granted….?
Precious times that build character and bring delight.
Beautiful story. It gifts me once more with so many childhood memories. The best of time. Thank you for taking me back to a time of joy and innocence.
It is a pleasure, isn’t it. These experiences remain embedded in our body and soul.