A Saturday drive back in time
When I was growing up in the Keithsburg Community, I never dreamed we would ever live in a media driven society. We had three channels with reception on the television. Reception was dependent on the weather and the angle of the antenna. Changing the channel meant going outside and turning the antenna until someone in the housed yelled to stop turning. There wasn’t a T.V. in every room like many homes have today. There was one in the living room. Parents decided what we would watch, and the decision was usually non-negotiable.
We didn’t have a high-tech stereo system in our home. I did have a clock-radio which worked quite well. There was no iTunes or Spotify to listen to whatever song we wanted when we wanted. A playlist was something different than we think of today. Young people would take an old-fashioned tape recorder and wait for hours until a song you wanted to hear played on the radio. We had to be quick to hit record and then wait until the song finished to hit the stop button. This is how a playlist was created in the 1970s.
Without the internet to find the answer to every question imaginable, we were forced to use books to find information. I was blessed as my family was able to afford a set of encyclopedias which was the Google of my childhood. During this period, all books were important. Reading was part of our lives. There is no doubt it is much easier today with books readily accessible on the internet. But there is something about the feel and smell of the pages of a book which will never be captured on a computer. I had a library card in my possession for the local library in addition to the school’s library. My generation may not have been able to Google. We did however understand the Dewey Decimal System.
The older I get, the more my mind drifts back in time. Often, I feel the lure of visiting familiar places. This is sometimes accomplished for real. At other times, it is only in my thoughts and dreams. A few weeks ago, Vicki and I decided to take a drive without a destination in mind. It was like a Sunday drive except it was Saturday. As opposed to a couple of hours, it lasted most of the day. Some events of that day took me back in time.
The day started with an early lunch at the Burger Bus in Ball Ground. That city is unrecognizable from what it was 30 years ago. The foot traffic was incredible. I imagined it being that way many years ago when Canton and Jasper were a day’s journey. People from all over visit there now for the quaint shops and laidback feel.
The next stop was Amicalola Falls. In the entire park there wasn’t one parking space available. It was good to see people out again. My mind was able to erase the crowd and see the many trips I took there as a child and young adult with Chalcedonia Baptist Church. I pointed out the field where we would play football after our church service and dinner under the pavilion.
The same pavilion where I heard Rev. Monroe Gunter preach several times still stands. Even those who weren’t with our group would often stop and listen. Everyone was respectful. It was a different time.
Coming back through Ellijay, we stopped at a used bookstore to browse. We left with a bagful of treasured books. As we were browsing, I saw an old copy of “The Scarlett Letter.” My mind immediately thought of Miss Lorraine Mauldin from Cherokee High. This book was required reading for her class. Miss Mauldin didn’t just teach English and Literature. She made sure her classes included lessons in life. I don’t know if any teacher still uses that book. I doubt it. I’m sure it has somehow become offensive. It would certainly be offensive if the media tells us so.
Our lives in Keithsburg weren’t driven by the media. We listened to our parents, our grandparents, our teachers, and our preachers. Those were the people who drove our society.
Their opinions mattered. We listened to them and respected the values they taught us. Miss Mauldin always encouraged me to go to a Bible College. It was her wish for me. I didn’t make it to Bible College. But I have held on to the lessons she taught me. And if God lets me live, I hope to share her lessons with others when given the chance. She never failed to share her faith. There is no greater lesson in life.