I Was Now An Old Timer

Now as an old timer, sitting atop the springhouse, I traveled backward in time to when we’d lived there. My reverie was interrupted when a man and his son, about 10, strolled up to me. From Chicago, they said they were. Soon I was sharing my memories with them.

Remembering carrying all our drinking and cooking water to the house in a white enameled bucket with a red rim and handle. That’s right—our “running water” was that which ran in the springhouse! Sometimes we even had to carry buckets full of water up the other hill to the barn for young calves…

Remembering how as little girls we’d carried bowls of cherry Jell-o with sliced bananas to the springhouse to “set.” We’d put the bowl, covered with a plate to keep out any frogs, on a flat rock in shallow water at the far end of the springhouse. In a few hours, the Jell-o would be firm…

Remembering….and then, suddenly, looking at the city boy who was listening to my tales, I realized that I was talking about a time and a life which he couldn’t even imagine! No running water? No inside plumbing? No TV??? No computers?

Golly, I’d really lived in the “olden days,” hadn’t I? And, in a flash, I knew I’d taken on a new role: I knew I was now an old-timer!

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