In the same way that capillaries serve the blood stream, these small trails served that small area of the island. I recall how we would hike and encounter other walkers that would be using the paths for more serious business such as going shopping or returning home carrying something. This area had not been developed at all and was nothing more than a dense woody area that had many crisscrossing paths or small trails. That was 'then', this is 'now' and I'm still not decided on which is a better time to be alive, and I suppose that the answer to that is of no consequence. ![]() One of us carried a "Community" thermos filled with ice which would be busy turning itself into cold water. This was an age where "Fast-Food" didn't exist and to keep ourselves nourished we hiked with brown paper bags that held sandwiches and bananas or whatever the available fruit was. As planned, this discovery resulted in walks in Cunucus and along miles of beaches. After all, we had Cunucus, beaches and all sorts of other places to go to and partake in the glory of a long ‘hike’. It is something he discovered by reading a “Scouts’” book and felt the two of us would be just perfect at it. This particular summer, my best friend "Denchie" introduced me to 'hiking'. Today, as adults, when we meet and talk about old times – which is seldom, the same old summer event comes up and we start to go over it again, perhaps hoping to squeeze another forgotten detail from that one day. This interruption happened at the start of our vacation and - as such - the rest of the vacation was textured by this event that happened and we spent endless nights talking about it. One of those summers was interrupted by the unplanned and certainly the unexpected. Conversations and arguments would pick up where they left off yesterday and, in that way, it seemed like one long continuous summer that was an uninterrupted, lovely - lengthy play-time. More than once we would start the day by going to a sandy lot by my house and place our marbles in the same spots as they were the evening before. Each day started the same in that we would each arrive at the corner and then go to the playing field nearby at almost the same time and start at the same point we left off yesterday. Bread would be baking in someone’s home and the thick full aroma that floated on the streets still resides in (at least) one of my nostrils. Consider it a “P.S.” on the childhood memories of a kid, and as all of us know, kids’ invent all sorts of stuff.ĭuring vacations we would get up in the mornings and run out into the street by my house and get together to do nothing else but “play”. The following is from me to you and there are no claims on it to be anything but a footnote of an event. It is a visit to a time when I was a freer spirit and it is certainly a time when ‘today’ was not a consideration. ![]() With that in mind, the following is a memory of a reality. Perhaps that was our reality then and also perhaps, now that we are wiser – not to mention a bit older, our realities are lost (or hidden) in the mountains of restrictions that our social lives and age have placed on us all. In most cases, our lives will seem to have been without limits and boundaries. If any of us thinks back on our youth, I feel sure that we will view ourselves as having been much freer spirits than we are today.
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