Memories are funny things. They are not always made up of ocean breezes or the strains of romantic music. They don’t necessarily bring visions of young love on a beautiful summer day.
Sometimes memories are made from the by gone vision of an eleven year old girl scurrying through tall, Black, White, and Hispanic, teenage boys as they flowed out of Benjamin Franklin High School.
The teens were racing across the street as to be first in line for a pepper and egg sandwich, or potato and egg sandwich, or perhaps a combo of same on a foot long loaf of Italian bread. A tiny corner restaurant with a window and counter facing the sidewalk was where these delights were sold from. I wove my way through them totally ignored, as it should be.
The smells and sounds of peppers frying bring me back to my childhood. Everyday I walked through this noisy crowd to get back to my elementary school after lunch. First to eighth grade, we all were dismissed for lunch, and expected to return on time for the afternoon classes. Didn’t matter that you lived in a sixth floor walk up. You needed to be back to line up in the street before the bell rang.
These old memories are always so pleasant to me. Not because of the pepper and eggs I made today for lunch, which were yummy, but for the true age of respect and innocence when a young girl could rush her way through a gang of teenage boys without fear. No guns, knives, or verbal assaults. Aw those were the days!
Life As I Remember It! 