Middle age plus 6/19

I am convinced that we never really leave our past behind us. No matter how far we travel, no matter how old we get, we still keep running into pieces of our past. That is fine and very welcome if the past was a good place to have been. I think I have been blessed with a happy past as well as a happy present. Not everyone can say that. However, I am also convinced that we tend to forget, or minimize the unhappy things from our past and remember instead those 'good ole days'. Last week, I kept bumping into a younger Carolyn every time I turned around. First, my brother Harold sent me the clipping of my mother's (and now my) club that was in the 1952 Missouri Ruralist. To illustrate the article I wrote about this old Missouri Ruralist article, I dug out a picture of a 1965 club celebration when my mother was being honored. There I stood in the picture, tall and skinny. I had come 'home' for the day from our home which was then in Archie, Missouri. My memories of that day flooded back to me as I also remembered all the trips I took down highway 71 to be with my parents. Then in another mailing I received two other articles from brother Harold. This time they were about my childhood in Washington, D.C. Two neighbor boys, brothers, had each written their memories of growing up on Western Avenue in Washington for a neighborhood newsletter. Their memories included my sister Ellen and me, by name even. Reading what they wrote about those lovely days when we could roam a large neighborhood with no fears, play outside until bedtime, and know all of our neighbors by name, again brought my past back to me. It didn't even hurt my feelings when one of the brothers said that Ellen was better in sports than I. I have always known that. But it reminded me that once when I fell off the trapeze, I started crying because I got the wind knocked out of me. This friend told me I was the biggest crybaby on the block. That was also probably true, but I had forgotten it until I read his remarks about our abilities. Growing up even more, last week I was an instructor at an Elderhostel at the YMCA of the Ozarks, when a wonderful mother/daughter pair attending there, kept looking at me as if they were trying to figure something out. When I got closer and they saw my name tag, they knew. "Nevada!! We are PEO's and we have attended the extended college week at Cottey several times." But that didn't explain why they thought they knew me. It turned out that they were there the year Cottey had a group of local authors give a presentation at a picnic on B.I.L. Hill. Again I had memories of a windy night where we met many folks from all over the country who come to Cottey for this week. They didn't seem to think I was a crybaby and I am sure they didn't think I was skinny, and they promised that we would see each other next year as they already have plans to attend. Oh yes, Ellen was also at the presentation, but I sold more books than she did! Which brings me again to this sister as two couples who were attending the Elderhostel had also been in Elderhostels where she had been an instructor. They were very impressed that I was her sister. So part of the past that is never really behind me is the pride I have in my siblings and parents. And part of that past is that I never outgrow being the youngest one who is always trying to catch up.