Saturday Slight

Our spot.  It used to be where we went almost every day, especially in the summer time. "We" were my two older brothers and I.  About the time Mother would pull out the ringer washer and Harold had gone to work, we grabbed our bikes and fishing poles and headed for Sand Creek. We stayed there, it seemed anyway, all day long.  I've written about some of the experiences spent there in the 1950s in my first book Pocket Girdles.  Highlights:  smoking (or maybe eating) cigarettes made from paper scraps and leaves from the trees, big suckers floating around on the bottom of the creek, hooks from homemade fishing poles caught and lost in the brush.  Now called the Popsicle Stick Bridge, the present bridge replaced the one we knew.  I recall a couple of painted wood railings on each side. I also recall hearing big trucks and their noisy jake brakes coming down the highway hill from the north, slowing down to approach that dangerous curve at the underpass over on the southeast side of the creek from the bridge.  I spent a few minutes on the walking path up above the creek yesterday, and as I walked, my mind took its own journey to a simpler, happier and nostalgic time in my childhood. I'm sure every day spent at the bridge and the surrounding area was not all bliss, with fishing tackle seemingly always in peril for me, often leading me to amuse myself in other ways after losing my hooks and having to wait for my brothers who had better rods and more skills at keeping their gear in working mode.   As time passes, scenes such as Sand Creek tend to weed out the unhappy moments and bless us with mostly treasured reminders of our days of youth in "our spot."  It was nice to spend some time on that mental journey to yesteryear while out for a January stroll.   In other news, four Love family members journeyed vicariously back to the early 1960s for a couple of hours at the Panida Theater last night.   We watched that Academy Award nominated Green Book with Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali. When the movie ended, I wiped away a tear or two and saw others in our group doing the same.  Phenomenal acting,  historical snippets depicting the harsh racial divide and extreme barriers imposed upon African Americans during the 1960s, a touching story of friendship and laughs throughout kept us all glued to the screen.  It's definitely a movie worth watching and maybe even a second time.   And, of course, Viggo's Sandpoint and Panida Theater connection added an extra touch of pride for the viewers.  My friend Merry posted the photo below on Facebook earlier this week, and I figure that every reminder we see of its simple message can't be all that bad.  The message in Green Book certainly inspires the thought clearly and poignantly.  Sometimes we forget how powerful a little kindness can be, especially in times like this.  This morning, I'll soon be off to pick up Annie at the airport so she can spend a couple of days in her "own private Idaho."  We'll go to Willie's basketball game and cheer on the Bulldogs.  Should be a fun day.   Happy Saturday.