Childhood memories. Sometimes the littlest things bring back a flood of happy memories of my childhood in Brookeville, Maryland. My parents had built a beautiful home on 8 acres, overlooking Tridelphia Lake in 1971. It was wonderful, especially in those months when it wasn’t too cold or too hot. We’d have the doors open in the kitchen that led out to the screened covered porch. There was a big oak tree right off the back of our home where my dad had hung a big rectangular board with ropes to hold onto … you know, a big ol’ swing. I loved that swing, unless there were a million gnats in my face, then I didn’t like it so much.

Sunday mornings were incredible. Mom would make maple bacon and sausage and eggs, and then a big batch of biscuits and gravy. Boy, were those biscuits with gravy good. So good. Not heart healthy, but what did we know back then? We just knew it was so darn good. There’d be coffee brewing which filled the house with a fabulous aroma, chocolate milk, and orange juice were on the menu too. We’d all gather around the kitchen table enjoying the breezes off the lake, and we’d tell stories and laugh. We did a lot of laughing in my family growing up. My brother’s, especially, would take cues from one another and make us all laugh, but then my mother would throw in a response that was so unexpected it would make Dad spit out his coffee. Those were great memories.

I lost my father in 1981. He was only 54y/o. I lost my brother, Billy, in 2012. He was only 60y/o. My mother lived with my husband and I and our family for 24 years. She passed in January, 2022. She was 97y/o and had lived a good life. I miss my family. It was a good family growing up. Like every family, we went through tough times and good times, financially difficult times and windfalls when my Dad would sell a property. All in all, I was blessed that God gave me the family that He did in my childhood. I wouldn’t change a thing.

So what prompted this post this morning? It’s a Monday morning, not a Sunday, and I had slept in. Big Bear was up and about, and began cooking sausage, eggs, and toast for breakfast. As I lay in bed comfortably resting, I could smell breakfast cooking, filtering into the bedroom, and that aroma just sent my thoughts spiraling back to my childhood, our Sunday morning breakfasts around the kitchen table, and all the laughter and stories that we shared. I was inspired to share it with you. I think it is important to write down our memories and pass them on.

After breakfast, Dad would shuffle to the family room and either turn on the television or put on a record album on his stereo system. If it was the latter, he would belt out a song with the music, while standing there in his underwear. He wouldn’t just stand there singing either … he’d have his arms out like he was on stage in front of an audience. Sometimes he’d walk up behind my mother and give her a hug and say “Mary, dance with me.” She’d usually respond “Oh Harry, stop! I have to finish cleaning up!” He’d say “Oh Mary, lighten up, the dishes aren’t going anywhere … let’s dance.” And so, they’d dance to the music coming from the family room. My brother Mike was usually still sitting at the table glancing through the newspaper, and Billy was off doing his thing in the garage or barn or in his bedroom. I’d help Mom with the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, then sometimes go out to swing or up to my bedroom to read or relax. But it always made me happy when everyone was happy and healthy and enjoyed each other’s company.

I think the one thing missing in today’s world is family’s being engaged with one another. We don’t sit around the table anymore during mealtime. We rarely have conversations about how our day had been, or what our plans were for the day. It all seems to have disappeared and given way to children engaging only with their electronic devices and social media friends. Husbands and wives sit alone, or like in our case, eat from our recliners in front of the television. The kitchen table has become the catch-all for handbags, groceries, books, mail, and where we hang our coats on the back of a chair or drop our keys or hat. Well, at least that is how it was for us most of the time when we lived in our Weddington, North Carolina home for 17 years. That wasn’t always the way it was, as we did eat around the table on occasion and had great conversations and laughter, but it certainly wasn’t as often as I would have liked. I suppose we become complacent in how we do things as a family, forgetting the things that memories were made of in our childhood.

Some additional family memories …

I will make an effort to gather around the table together and tell stories. Hugs aplenty, loud and gut wrenching laughter, comforting naps by a fire in the fireplace, and more. We even have a big ol’ oak tree on our property where I can foresee a rectangular piece of wood with ropes on each side, attached to a heavy branch, just waiting for someone to come out and swing among the gnats.