Times, They Are A-Changin'

Since Benjamin has moved back in with us, we've been watching old episodes of "The Wonder Years."  If you have never seen it, it is a beautifully written TV series that ran from 1988 to 1993 about growing up in the 60's and 70's.  We'll generally watch two episodes in a row and sit in silence for a few seconds and just say, "Wow."  The story lines are so poignant and tender.

For a nostalgic like myself, this show brings back feelings and memories that were previously catalogued and filed away neatly in hermetically sealed boxes way back in the corridors of my mind.  The episode we watched tonight was about the pain a father feels when his kids grow up and move out on their own, sometimes taking on different values than those they were taught.  The episode closed with the Bob Dylan song, Times they are a-changing.

Times are a-changing, aren't they?  My wife and I were just talking about this today.  I'm an old-fashioned dude.  I'm not an extremist or a radical.  Heck, I have the same values as that of my father and my grandfathers.  How does one become an extremist if he hasn't changed?  Those values are tried and true.  They worked.  I haven't moved.  It's just that everything else has.  I don't know how to live another way.  I don't want to live another way.  My anchor is down. 

Funny how times change.  Times always change.  This morning my work brought me to the town I grew up in, right next to the field where I used to play Little League baseball.  Here is a photo of the third base line:

The Volunteer Fire Department now sits right on the infield.  The best I can figure, home plate was at the near corner with the third base line running down where the garage doors are.  There was a fence in the back.  I never hit a home run in this park, unfortunately.  Right over the fence were the railroad tracks where the Missouri Pacific Lines trains would run, blowing their horns loudly as they passed.  We'd leave pennies on the track and pass back and pick up the flattened pennies to take home as souvenirs.

Just past the railroad tracks was the Kinder Butcher Shop.  We would walk over in our uniforms and cleats with all the spare change we could find.  When you would open the door, the smell of smoked meats would greet you.  If I close my eyes, I can smell that aroma.  There were always some Hitachi Rice Cookers warming hot boudin on the counter.  We'd buy links of boudin to eat and a Dr. Pepper and walk back to the park, now prepared nutritionally to play ball.

This here is the first base line:

There was a concession stand just to the left of the corner of where that building now sits that we would frequent, purchasing delicious, big dill pickles from a gallon jar, so sour they made your mouth pucker.  Then we'd buy blue raspberry snow cones to wash the pickle down that would stain our tongues and lips blue, not to mention our white uniform pants.

I played for a team called the Pirates.  A lawyer in town was my coach.  I remember we had a hot shot pitcher from a neighboring town that threw straight fire from the cannon that he had for an arm.  I was the catcher, crouching behind home plate, absorbing his salvos.  His fastball broke my thumb.  I was in a cast for a while and on injured reserve.  I straightened a coat hanger to scratch down in the cast where it itched.  I had everyone sign my cast, and wanted to save the cast for a souvenir, but by the time it was cut off, the doggone thing stunk so bad, it needed to be disposed of.  I couldn't wait to get back behind home plate and play ball with my buddies.

The ballpark is long gone.  Many of the buddies I played with are gone, but all the water from the Fire Station's hoses can't put out the flames of all the memories of good old times shared there.  Which leads us back to where we started.  Times change.  You can't go back.  Apart from your memories, those times (and many of the people) just don't exist anymore.  But from a cultural standpoint, what if you don't want to go forward in this brave new world?  The answer for me (everyone has to make the decision for themselves) is to remember to magical time we grew up in, but live life now, make memories, trust God, be joyful, and be true to your core values.  Contra Mundum.