Mrs Fuqua's House
When I was a kid in the 70's, one of the places that my parents would take me was to Mrs. Fuqua's house. Gosh I loved going over to her house. While she didn't have much of a front yard to play in, the backyard was a whole other world. A gigantic steep slope of a back yard was my playground, and the playground of many other little kids that she would babysit. A small white brick storage shed was centered at the bottom of the hill, tire swing hanging from a tree branch, and a huge garden in the right corner of the property, mostly corn.
The original Big Wheel was really popular back then, and my parents were kind enough to get me one. The was also one at Mrs. Fuqua's. Nothing like taking your life in your hands by zooming down the hill on a Big Wheel...or a bike, or just about anything that had wheels on it. In fact, somehow, one of the back tires had gotten cut open and it didn't really roll right, or brake right for that matter, and I had my share of wipeouts and rollovers on it. Kneepads? Elbow pads? A helmet?? Those were all figments of a not yet realized politically correct and safety conscious imagination in the 70's. Definitely not like today. I had my share of skinned knees and elbows, and you know, I wouldn't trade those memories for anything. The pain, though, I could totally do without.
Snow. Seemed like it would snow every year when I was a kid in the 70's. Again, Mrs. Fuqua's hill would be populated with kids, parents, sleds, discs, and anything else that would fly down the hill on snow. From first light until it was too dark, the only thing happening was trying to get down that hill with as much speed as possible. Just make sure to avoid the small, white brick shed at the bottom of the hill.
Sometimes I would be there in the afternoons and of course, nap time was mandatory. One time, well, actually, it was probably more than one time, we would get caught jumping on the beds. Good times! She generally wasn't happy to have us do that. I was also there occasionally in the evenings, and her house was the place that I learned how to play Spoons.
Jennifer and Ricky, thanks for sharing your mom with a bunch of kids from the neighborhood and church. I can't really imagine growing up any other way. Events in life have a way of triggering memories that haven't risen to the surface for a long time. This past weekend, Mrs. Fuqua passed from life to death to a new life in the arms of God.
Just like she did for me and and all of those now grown up little kids, God is taking personal care of one of His own now.