Lately I’ve been getting frequent emails about the “good old days,”   Some words draw nostalgia and provide reflection during nights when sleep is elusive.  During these times when I’m staring into darkness I mentally go up and down the streets of town remembering people that are deceased or moved during the past half century of life in Fernie.

I recall Elsa, unforgettable in short bob accented by rows and rows of bobby pins.  Elsa would stand quietly behind the door of her porch ready to pounce on girls walking by convinced they were out to steal her husband.  Next door lived a tall thin man and his very short, round son.

Down the street lived four brothers.  Once when mom and I went to bring them a pot of soup we found the tub of their wringer washer overflowing with boiled spaghetti. It seemed this was a staple for the old bachelors.

When I got my driver’s licence I learned on a fifties Ford truck with standard controls, emergency brake, clutch, gas pedal and dimmer switch controls on the floor.  It had running boards and fender skirts. I gave a ride to mom’s friend once and heard later that the occasional rough transition from clutch to pedal gave her such a bumpy ride she feared for her life.

I recall when hardwood floors were covered with wall to wall carpet because it was considered classy; phones answered by an operator saying “number please,” with party lines you could listen in on.  Saturday matinees cost twenty- five cents; five cents got you a bag of penny candy with black babies and jujubes, strawberries and gum balls, and after the show sometimes you got lucky and went home with a colourful poster advertising the movie.

Field trips were excursions across the school to the field behind the tracks to play ball or have a picnic, divorced parents were unheard of and moms were always home after school and if mom needed anything from the store we would walk by ourselves to buy it.

Summers were filled with long hot days weeding the garden, shelling peas in the shade or running through the sprinkler. Cracker Jack popcorn was a delicious treat eaten while staring at the purple outline of mountains at dusk, enjoying the sound of crickets.

In summer we sweltered upstairs in our bedrooms, in winter froze until the coal and wood furnace was lit.

My friends and I enjoyed games of hide and seek or spinning around till we were dizzy.

I was raised in a quiet and simpler time in Fernie. It was a time when teachers could yield the strap if you misbehaved and you were scared to go home and tell parents because what came next was even worse.

I couldn’t have imagined Atari, PlayStation or Wii, or a personal computer with internet, email, and Skype.

I’ve seen amazing changes in the past half century, imagine the wonders the next fifty will bring, perhaps these days will be the “good old days” for our  grandchildren.

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