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Tuesday, October 28, 2014


I did not have a slide as a child.  This did not traumatize me.  I did not need a slide.  I had hay bales, seed bins, a creek, cow paths to explore and trees to climb.  The hayloft of a barn had so much more to entice a child.  Things like forgotten eggs that could be tossed out the hay door.  The eggs splattered beautifully and smelled awful.  What kid would not love that! Reba Jane, my very best friend, and I giggled every time.

The Farnsworth house was two stories.  The window of the upstairs bedroom opened onto the back porch roof.  Simply open the window and remove the screen. One could step onto the porch roof.  From there one could then ascend to the top of the house.  That gave access to the chimney.  One could shout down to anyone in the dining room.  Little kids could be frightened that way.  What tween would not love doing that to irritating younger relatives.

At the country school I attended there were swings, acting bars, a merry go round and see saws.  No slides. But the park where the family reunion was held each September had slides.  I enjoyed those slides.  Even in dresses with lots of petticoats, the slides were still fun.  Eventually my younger sister did get a slide at our home in the country.  I was too big for slides as the boob fairy had visited me.  Young southern girls with boobs just did not slide.

Maybe I have misled you.  I did have a slide of sorts, a metal wrapped cellar door.  It was slanted and mostly slick.  It was under a shade tree which made it even more fun.  Reba Jane and I would play under that tree.  And we really did sing the 'Little playmate, come out and play with me' song.  My family moved from the place when I was seven.  There are times in the autumn of life it might be fun to go down a slide ... if one could just climb the ladder to get to it....

gleeful voices
leaves gliding down the slide
just one more time!
©  Janice Adcock


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