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Senior Moments

Category: History / Topics: Memories

70 Years Ago

by Dan Seagren

Posted: October 5, 2014

For my last birthday, I received a book about the Summer of 1927…

For my last birthday, I received a book from my daughter, Laurie, about the Summer of 1927. It was most revealing in many ways. Then my neighbor asked to read it. While writing my Senior Moments column over the last dozen years or so, I repeatedly urged my readers to reminisce seriously now and then. So, I'm practicing what I preach.

Seventy years ago I was a teenager. When my father was out of town in the wintertime, I had the privilege of tending the furnace, jerking those red hot clinkers out and dropping them into a large metal container. That was a lot more fun than shoveling snow.

It was then I had to practice piano for 30 minutes a day much to the displeasure of my father who was tired of my mother coaxing me relentlessly. He finally won out and now I play 30 minutes a year, only as a last resort.

I also remember when 13 years old asking Dad to let me drive. I drove home, three blocks without shifting, but when I asked if I should put it into the garage, he politely declined. Then I spent the summer on the farm six hundred miles Northwest, cultivating with the tractor, mowing hay with horses, milking five cows morning and evening. When I returned home, I asked to drive our 1937 stick-shift Nash Lafayette and drove home, shifting like a pro and Dad's jaw dropped. Do I regret those summers on the ol' homestead 120 acre farm? No, but am sorry youngsters today often miss out on that irreplaceable indulgence.

Seventy years ago, our neighbor who ran a small band-saw factory recruited me to work for him. I went to school mornings and worked afternoons at 40 cents an hour. I did an assortment of tasks from sharpening saw blades, running the drill press, sweeping the floor but never graduated into the finer arts. I always took off my class ring, put it in my coat pocket, hung it in the hallway. When I went to retrieve it one day, it was gone. Never solved the crime.

One day we were playing softball. One of our players hit a long ball and a bratty kid grabbed it an ran. We only had the one ball so I took off after him, caught him, grabbed the ball and gave him a look he probably never forgot and we resumed our sandlot game. Reminisces. I could go on, but a publisher wants about 400 words so I'll quit reminiscing. For now only though.



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Dan Seagren is an active retiree whose writings reflect his life as a Pastor, author of several books, and service as a Chaplain in a Covenant Retirement Community.

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Posted: October 5, 2014   Accessed 141 times

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