The Porch of my Childhood

THE PORCH OF MY CHILDHOOD



         Who would think that something as plain and common as the porch along the side of my childhood home would hold such warm and wonderful thoughts? It was a long porch of grey painted pine 1 X 6s along the long barrack of the white frame house where I grew up.
         This porch had such a life and if it was still standing it would somehow radiate the warmth of a huge smile. So many events and memories but the structure is now gone.
         I can remember being six or seven, waiting for Uncle Tony to pay his evening visit; he and Dad would sit on the porch and talk about the day’s events or why they would never buy a Ford. “We’ve always been a Chevrolet family.” Dad would say; Uncle Tony would agree and then move on to the next topic. The old grey porch felt cool in the heat of summer and that feeling just helped put me to sleep. I’d lay next to Uncle Tony, smell his “Old Spice’ cologne, and drift off to sleep to the sound of their muffled voices.
         Summer was a special time on the porch. McFaddin was home to a competing community baseball team which played at a  field about a quarter mile away; far enough to be distant but close enough for watching and listening to the game. On those 100 degree summer Sundays we’d sit in the shade on the porch and listen as the crowd cheered their home team and laugh as fans like Pete Garcia heckled errors.  I’ll never forget watching the batter hit the ball and the anticipation of waiting for the sound of the Louisville Slugger making contact with the ball to reach the porch; it was only a split-second’s delay but it was noticeable and amazing to a curious young boy. 
         By the second or third inning dad would go up the street to the Adames’ house to buy snow cones. The  flavored ice in the waxed Dixie cup was so cold; if you ate too much at one time it would give you an unbearable split second headache, but the taste of the strawberry syrup with a spoonful of crushed pineapple on top was worth it, and just the thing for the Sunday afternoon event.
         I can still vividly picture the old house and it’s old grey porch, a much loved yet overlooked  item of our family life. We’d sit together, protected on the porch watching thunderstorms light up the darkness of the warm summer nights. I’ve not smelled “Old Spice” cologne, tasted a strawberry snow cone, or heard the voices of my Dad or Uncle Tony in years but the memories linger on. Closing my eyes I can still feel, hear, smell, and smile at all of them.