The Wonder Years (Part 1) - Over the Hills and Through the Woods

One of my favorite television shows was The Wonder Years featuring Fred Savage as Kevin Arnold and Daniel Stern as the narrator of Kevin’s thoughts.  Part of the fascination is that the time-frame of Kevin’s life and experiences parallel my own.  Why is it, that even the colors of the sixties and seventies now seem faded?  Not everyone did drugs, did they?  That’s just the pictures, Leo.  A student in my wife’s class once commented about something that occurred “back in the day”, before there was color.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t joking.  It also must be part of getting old that makes us long for what we perceive as the good times.  They probably weren’t all that wonderful, but the memories seem uncomplicated by adult concerns such as politics, sex and religion.  I tried to explain my feelings to someone once by suggesting that their friendship reminded me of The Wonder Years.  I suppose the point to which I was driving, was the innocence associated with just hanging out with each other and being genuine without agendas or hidden motives.  How rare is it when people can share time without being burdened by expectations, theirs and/or others’?   We used to do it all the time when we were kids.   I wish I could have captured it in a bottle.

And the passing of time was your friend for the asking
And all you were asking was the passing of time

-Gordon Haskell

I’ve captured many wonderful experiences in my memory.  I pray that I am able to hang on to them throughout my life, but if I don’t, perhaps documenting them will prove beneficial.  My early life will sound like a replay of the Andy Griffith Show, progressing to The Wonder Years and then That 70’s Show.  There was Coach in the 90’s, which Bobbi’s friend and workmate referred to as “Dave”.  Not sure I was that much of a typical Jock, but it did resonate on some level.   A friend once told me that I said what everyone else was thinking, but didn’t have the courage to say.  Not always a good thing I might add, but that was Coach.  The fact that these shows hit the mark, suggests that my experiences may not have been all that uncommon.

Dave, Dianne and Mike with stringer full of Bluegill

When reading Larry Bird’s autobiography Drive several years ago, I was surprised to hear him describe catching Bluegills with a cane pole and hunting mushrooms.  Being an Indiana boy myself, those were also two of my very favorite childhood activities.  A mess of Bluegill and Morel mushrooms would sometimes be served together at my grandmother’s breakfast table.  The usual fare of oatmeal was great, but the taste of the fried vittles I had helped procure, was special.  I remember being less excited about fried squirrel.  At least once, I had frog legs and turtle soup at that table.  I know for sure, I did not try the brains once offered. Suddenly, Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation comes to mind.

  

Mamaw Ed, Dave & Dianne

The trip to my grandma’s house was, in fact, over the hills and through the woods.  It was about a 2 ½ hour drive south from our home in Denver, Indiana to Bliss and Edna Sinclair’s quaint rural abode just outside the smallest of towns, Quincy, Indiana. The trip would become a two-day affair after our move to Arizona in 1967. Their house was near the front of the five-acre wooded lot surrounded directly by a well-maintained lawn which extended into multiple pathways into the woods.  This lot had once been a part of the 120-acre Sinclair homestead where my dad and his sister were born.  The pond was to the west, neatly fenced and also well-kept so as to allow maximum access to the pond’s waterline.  The woods deepened just to the south of the pond and house.  There was a garden and blackberry patch on the southwest side of the pond where I once encountered a black snake.  I was undeterred in collecting enough berries for a pie.

Pard, Dianne, Dave and Dad.  Where's Cousin Eddie?

I retrieved mostly bluegill from the pond, but occasionally caught crappie and remember once snaring a bass on a fly rod.  On the southeast side of pond, turtles seemed to rule and it was difficult to keep any type of bait on your hook.  We mainly used red worms and catalpa worms, but I also seem to recall using grasshoppers and grubs and perhaps food from the kitchen in a pinch.  We also primarily used cane poles, equipped with bobbers.  We used more sophisticated equipment when we fished at one of the several larger ponds and lakes in the area.  Mom and Dad took us frog-gigging once, but for some odd reason couldn’t find a lid for the bucket.  Funny, maybe that was the prototype mission for Mexican Duck Hunting (See Treasure of San Pedro post).  You can gig a frog, but he doesn’t die right away and continues to jump like, well, a frog.  I think we ended up with few frogs that night, at least enough for me to have frog legs. 

Papaw Bliss, Dave w/unfortunate turtle, Dianne

Also, near the south side of the pond, I shot my first rifle.  Dad braced me against a fallen tree.  I’m not sure how old I was, but still remember looking through the scope, squeezing the trigger, being startled by the shot and feeling the recoil impact to my shoulder.  I also went deer and squirrel hunting with my dad. We never shot a deer, but just being in the woods with my dad on a cold morning was exciting.  I loved wearing my long underwear, jeans and what I used to call my “army” boots.  The fur-lined hat with flaps that snapped together was also part of my preferred ensemble.

Hunting Morel mushrooms was more my speed.  I loved to find and eat them.  Better disguised in nature than Easter Eggs, they would frequently be underfoot before being discovered.  These fungi are often found growing near the base of trees like truffles.  Unfortunately my dog Dono would occasionally mark that territory just before we spotted them.  Good thing they weren’t Easter Eggs.  I recently discovered that Morels can also be found in North Texas.  A Spring Break mushroom hunt may be in order.

Other memorable activities around my grandparent’s place included roasting weenies and marshmallows, eating my Grandma's awesome snickerdoodles, and catching lightning bugs (They’re still doin’ all right, Sis).  An attempt was even made to ice skate on the frozen pond, perhaps a foreshadowing of my winter sports skills. I must have also spent hours twisting the rope-suspended swing on the east side of the house just to experience the dizzy unwind.  Who needs hallucinogens?  I almost forgot that I even had a freakin’ pony, although I believe he might have been Satan himself.  Trigger, the neighbor’s gentle horse was a better companion.

Dianne, Dave and Dono (Frozen Pond)

Another great thing about being at Grandma and Grandpa’s place was that my Aunt Maribel and my Aunt Jenny lived nearby.  My dad’s sister and her family lived near Mooresville.  They had an awesome house on a lake and every toy known to man, or to my youngest cousin Mark as it were.  They had a downstairs seemingly dedicated to fun.  Mike, Mark, Dianne and I enjoyed converting the downstairs playroom into a “Scary House”.  Dianne and I always thought that the house was really creepy at night anyway.  Poor Mark usually got the worst of the pranks and wound up being really frightened and getting us into trouble.  That being said, it seemed almost believable that werewolves lived down by the lake.  Right, Dianne?

Dave, Dianne, Mike and Mark in the McGinnis Playroom

McGinnis’ were also the only ones I knew who had color television.  See, I told you it was black and white “back in the day”.  I can distinctly remember watching a Star Trek episode in color for the first time.  It was the episode where there were only kids on the planet because everyone had this disease that made them age quickly.  I must have caught that disease that night.  At any rate, I never wanted to watch black and white again.  After we got our first color TV in about 1973, the battle for the TV really got ugly, especially when Little House on the Prairie starting competing with Monday Night Football.

I’ve joked about my mom being the ultimate yuletide spirit.  Aunt Jenny, one of her four sisters, also had the heart of Santa Claus.  In other words, she spoiled us rotten.  She and Uncle Harold had a store in Quincy.  What I remember most, was being allowed free run of the General Store, getting to have any candy or pop I wanted.  I remember all the paraffin shapes filled with fruit juice.  How strange that I actually enjoyed chewing the tasteless wax.  I also recall loving Cherry Jacks, a combination of cherry and licorice I believe.  My favorite of all favorites, however, was my beloved Choc-Ola, a chocolate beverage served in a pop bottle.  I think that it still marketed, but as Yoo-Hoo. Dianne was into Orange Nehi.  I also remember getting to pick out a toy from her store.  It was like Christmas anytime we visited Aunt Jenny.

 

There are so many wonderful memories and they continue to surface as I try to document my Wonder Years.  I’ve friends with similar experiences.  A couple of years back, a friend from work brought me back Morels from his trip to the Midwest.  Last summer, friends visited their home in Illinois.  I could see, smell, feel and hear their trip reflections like I was there.  Well, because I kind of was.