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While chronological age is progressive through time, it is hard to
ignore a birthday when it comes with a big chocolate cake with white
frosting and pink roses. I have arrived at the age where I have
stopped counting the numbers and just celebrate the day. Yes, I am
about to turn another year older this week and it is not as fun as it
used to be. Aging does have its benefits though. Our armor grows
thicker, our perspective hopefully wiser, and we learn it doesn’t gain
us any ground to sweat the small stuff.
A couple of weeks ago, I discovered a fountain of youth rather
unexpectedly in the guise of a nostalgia filled website. The site was
full of “remember when…” type of listings popular in metro Detroit;
local celebrities, street names, city events, rituals and catastrophes
that happened during the 50s, 60s and 70s. Having grown up in a small
town two hours north of Motown, I was curious to see if there was
anything I recognized. One particular name that instantly took me back
about thirty plus years was Mort Neff. This was a man who hosted a
regional television show called Michigan Outdoors. As I read that
name, I instantly became a bored adolescent sitting on a zebra striped
floor pillow chugging a Faygo red pop watching his show. The other two
channels were probably showing either an old black and white Charlie
Chan movie or Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. I watched Mort not to
learn the best secluded cove (or ice hole) where I could hook a
rainbow trout with my Ronco Fishin’ Magician, but because it was the
lesser of the three evils.
As I continued to read through the list, the floodgate of memories
began to flow like the monsoons of last summer. I was five years old
and could smell turpentine coming from the make-shift art studio in my
grandmother’s basement. I could hear Petula Clark on the AM-only radio
that sat just above the washing machine blasting her hit Downtown:
“Just listen to the rhythm of a gentle Bossa Nova, you'll be dancing
with 'em too before the night is o-vah.” At my tender age, I couldn’t
for the life of me figure out what could be so exciting about our
little town’s retail hub. Someone actually wrote a song about the S.S.
Kresge dime store, Peoples National Bank and the Gulf gas station? She
must have been talking about Detroit.
What about memories for the Rio Ranchoans who have lived here for
awhile? Can you remember when there wasn’t a Wal Mart at Southern and
Unser? Oh, right, that was only last year. Ok, how about when there
wasn’t an Intel at Sara Road? Oh, that’s only been since 1981.
Although our city is relatively young, when today’s school age
children are grown, they will look back at Rio Rancho and reminisce
about their childhood much in the same vane.
Imagine, they could remember when some of the streets weren’t even
paved yet. They could remember when NM 528 was only four lanes and
Paseo del Norte wasn’t even double-decker yet. They might remember
when there wasn’t a Rio Rancho Downtown River Walk with its outside
marketplace, cafes and paddle boats. A mere twinkling in a columnist’s
eye or a visionary strategic plan? Guess I will leave that up to the
city planners.
There are many ways to stay young at heart when birthdays can get you
down. So when your big day rolls around this year, don’t count the
candles on the cake. Celebrate your day by enjoying those memories you
hold dear. Just be sure to be home before the street lights come on.
Quote of the Week: “Big Girls Don’t Cry” – Frankie Valli
Jennifer Huard’s column appears each Thursday. She welcomes your
emails at jhuard@abqjournal.com
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