Jog Down Memory Lane

Yesterday, Cindy and I drove to Roseland, Illinois to get soup for the retreat. Yes, I said, Roseland, Illinois. We picked the soup up from Dutch Farms which is right off the expressway and 111th street. When we were finished doing the business at hand and had eighteen cases of cream of potato soup and chicken noodle soup in the back of my Durango, I said, "Cindy, I would like to ride around here a bit". She was all for that so I took a trip down memory lane. I met Ken on the steps of the First CRC of Roseland in 1960 when I landed in Roseland for the first year at Trinity College. I had to search back into my mental computer to come up with an address but I did and found the church quite easily. Even after all these years, it is still a beautiful building. I took a couple of pictures for posterity and smiled with satisfaction. I chuckled when I saw the church steps. I pictured them so much bigger and so much grander. I remember very well being introduced to Ken on those stairs. I would have loved to get inside the building and see if anything has changed. It is now an African American Baptist Church. First CRC was the church that brought up my husband. It was the church of the whole of his father's family; his grandparents, uncles and aunts, cousins, and parents.

I drove past the house in which Ken and his parents lived. The lots were 25 ft. wide with 22 of those feet taken up by the small house; one foot on the one side and two feet of sidewalk on the otherside. Postage stamp size. Cindy and I spoke about how all those people of Dutch Reformed heritage that lived in that community were dispersed and that most of them live in a fair amount of luxury in the suburbs. I took a quick snapshot of the house for Ken's sake.

After the jog down memory lane, we returned to the work at hand and scouted for needed retreat items in Gordon Foods, Costco and Hobby Lobby. We were fairly successful and came home bushed but happy.

Even though my recliner was wooing me last evening, we bit the bullet and attended a basketball game at Covenant Christian High School. Our granddaughter, Mackenna, who is eight, had attended a cheerleading camp on Saturday and performed at the ball game. Needless to say, Mackenna felt like the center of attention which she craves, so the night was successful when she saw her family members there to watch her new skills. She is a little spit fire and will do well in anything she tries. Even though going out in the cold one more time was not an easy sacrifice, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. Both the girls and the boys games were very exciting with CCHS coming out on top in both of them. Watching boys play high school ball who are children of people our children's ages is somewhat daunting but also a great deal of fun. We realize that time is fleeting.