sleigh-riding

15 sleigh-riding first edit 3/03 7:45 PM

I just recently moved into my apartment at Van Schoonhoven Square. Only a few weeks ago. It's quite nice for a one bedroom. I'm furnishing it bit by bit, as money and motivation allow. I didn't bother with getting cable TV. I don't even own a TV. Not yet, anyway. I didn't have TV when Pamela and I traveled down the east coast on our trawler. Well, we had a TV, but moving south like we did, leading a nomadic lifestyle on the water, we had it only for movies that I'd buy out of the five dollar bin at Walmart. I didn't miss regular TV. So I didn't bother with cable here.

But I did, and do, watch TV of sorts. On my laptop. Online. I really enjoy the old TV shows such as the Twilight Zone, the Outer Limits, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and some old westerns. One thing I noted is that the date at the end of the show was always in Roman numerals. I wonder why? Why not a regular date? l watched a bunch of the Twilight Zone shows recently, and the episodes I've watched so far have a date of MCMLIX. If you are not following Roman numeral dates, the M stands for thousand, the C a hundred, the L for fifty, the X is ten, and the I for one. Placement of these numerals adds or subtracts from the letter before or after.

MCM is 1900, with the C subtracting from the last M. L adds fifty to give you 1950. IX is nine, with one being subtracted from ten. So you get 1959. I wonder why I was taught Roman numerals in school? I'll bet kids today don't learn Roman numerals. Why bother? Nowadays you can just google MCMIX to get the answer. Not that anyone would. They probably don't show up at the end of today's TV shows and movies anymore, and what other use would they have?

TV. Man, I remember those old console televisions from when I was a boy. Good screenplays, great photography, excellent acting, and just one story line instead of three stories at once. I have a hard time with three story lines. Everything used to be so much simpler when I was a kid.

Funny. I had a kid that hung around my compute store. Smart kid. Somehow we got talking about TV. Jason said he didn't like black and white TV sets. He preferred color TV. I looked at him with a smile.

“We have always had color television sets,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jason.

“Life was black and white in the old days. Then President Eisenhower mandated that life be changed to color.”

Jason shook his head and went back to the service department of my computer store muttering to himself.

Life was certainly different back then. Simpler. My dad bought one of the first color televisions in Swayze Acres. It made Saturday morning cartoons more fun to watch. And you could adjust the color intensity and tint to get amusing results.

The last Twilight Zone I watched showed a sign at a “filling station” at 32.9 cents a gallon. Gasoline was cheap then. You could even tell one make of car from another back then. In this episode, a woman was driving a '59 Mercury two door hardtop. Nowadays, I can't tell one from another. Jelly beans.

I looked out of my apartment window. It was snowing pretty hard. It seems that we always had a white Christmas in the old days. December is just about right to get your first snow. I wonder if kids still sleigh ride? Probably, but only if there's a video game or app for it.

Well, it sure is pretty outside. I think I'll put on my boots, grab my camera, and take photos. Bundled up, I walked out my door and almost ran over Mrs. Schiocetti in the hall.

“Leaving for a walk?” she asked.

“Good morning, Mrs Schiochetti. Not far, just to take some photos.”

“Be careful, Mr. Gibson. Don't slip and fall,” she said. “You might break something.”

“I'll do my best, ma'am.”

I stepped outside and there was Richie. In a '59 Mercury two door hardtop. I carefully made my way down the entrance ramp. Richie had his window down.

“Richie, it's good to see you,” I said. “Are you OK? I missed you the other day.”

“Yeah, sorry man. I had to work an extra shift,” he replied. “Did you miss me?”

“Believe it or not, yes. I mean, I am very appreciative of all you've done and all, and I don't take your favors for granted, but when you don't magically show up like you do, I worry.”

“Well, I'm fine, thanks,” replied Richie.

“Another car?”

“This is my dad's Merc. I don't have chains for my car yet,” said Richie.

“Why don't you get studded snow tires?” I asked.

“Get what?”

“Studded snow tires. Snow tires with studs in them,” I answered.

“Well, learn something new everyday,” said Richie. “I'll ask my garage about it.”

“Wait, Richie. On second thought, you better not. I might be getting confused. Old age, ya know.”

“Not a problem, man,” said Richie. “Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“Well, I'd like to go to Swayze Acres to see if kids still sleigh-ride. But if it's out of your way...”

“No, it's not,” said Richie. “It's my job. Hop in”

I got in, and as Richie drove slowly down the road, I heard the once familiar click-click-click of tire chains slapping the road. My dad's chains came off once and wrapped around his car's axle. He spent an hour unwrapping them in foot deep snow. So did I. My job was to hold the flashlight.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean when you say that it's your job to drive me around?” I asked.

Richie smiled a little smile. He kept his eyes on the road because it was snowing so hard.

“It's just my job. I, uh, watch over folks who need watching.”

“I need watching?” I asked.

“Some folks think so,” he answered.

“Really? Who? Did my daughter call you?”

“Of a sorts,” he answered. “We're here. Can I drive you in this time?”

“Well, OK. If you don't mind. The snow is piling up and I don't know how good my cane is in snow. It might slip out from under me.”

“Maybe you should get studs on your cane,” laughed Richie.

“Or chains.”

Richie dropped me off at Yaeger's house. Since it's empty, no one will mind if I cut through the yard. I carefully made my way up the gravel driveway. I could hear kids whooping and hollering from the hill. Must be they still sleigh-ride.

Our sleigh-riding hill was behind Lea Avenue on St. Mary's land. There was a small landing about two-thirds of the way up that young ones used. The older kids climbed to the top. It was short, but steep, and those kids got really flying. It didn't take long to get to the bottom, and then we kids would turn around, climb back up, and do it again. And again, and again, and again, and again...

I raised up my “magic camera” Nikon and took photo after photo. This is where I love my 300mm zoom lens. Getting right up close to the action without the subject knowing I was taking his or her photo.

“Hi Mr. Gibson!”

I turned around. It was Russell.

“Hello Russell,” I said.

“Hey, where's your sled?” He laughed.

“Good one, Russell. Have a good afternoon of it.”

Russell ran up the hill, sled in tow. There had to be twenty or thirty kids up there. I moved forward, staying to the left side of the hill so as not to get run over. And there it was. My Flexible Flyer. Little me had it, dragging it up the hill. Which wasn't easy since it was heavy, but it was worth it coming down.

My sled once belonged to my dad. It was his when he was young. He told me it was the fastest sled in Lansingburgh. It was certainly the fastest sled in Swayze Acres. No one could touch that sled. All I figure is that the runners were perfectly parallel and straight. And every time I used it, I put candle wax on the runners. That was my secret.

“Wagon train!” someone yelled.

All the kids that wanted on the wagon train lined up at the top of the hill. Each laid on his or her sled, sticking his black galoshes in the front of the sled behind. When everyone was ready, someone would yell HO! And off we'd go. All the kids would be paddling with their hands for all they were worth. The front sleds were part way down the hill before the train got momentum and then the whole train careened down the hill at a pretty good clip.

And always... always... some joker would pulls his galoshes out of the sled behind him. Then we had two trains, or three or four. Many times it was so out of control that some sleds would flip. Then we'd all get up, get our sleds, and drag them back up the hill. And do it all again. Over and over, until our mothers called us in for dinner.

Sometimes I would go back out after dinner. It would be dark, but Chumley's spotlight was often on and that lit up the hill enough to see. Besides, I knew that hill and every bump. Most often, I was all alone at night.

Sometimes, I'd run my sled purposely into the bushes at the bottom. I'd put my face down as weeds and bushes slapped at my sled. If it was snowing or sleeting, I'd roll onto my back to admire the beauty and the quiet of the night.

Speaking of night, the sun was setting. It was twilight, or what we photographers call the “blue hour”. I better get back. Besides Russell, no one else noticed I was there. Or if they did, they didn't care. I shuffled back to Yaeger's house.

Waiting in front was Richie.