As I sat down at my computer this morning I glanced out of the window above me. The morning was foggy and the outdoors scary, like when my glasses need a good cleaning. The neighbor’s goats, on the other side of the fence, were playing near a completely covered yellow-leafed tree. I wondered why those leaves haven’t fallen. But the goats didn’t seem to mind that it’s foggy and the yellow leaves haven’t fallen yet. They are locking and unlocking their horns and falling down once they can’t get unlocked. I declare I get more enjoyment from those goats than their owners do.

But I had better get on with my topic of the day. I saw on the television last night, a sign reading, “When Voting Begins, We Close.” The sign was put there by Walmart, so I guess they are closing their stores during the voting hours. That sign pushed the memory button in my mind. I know that many stores are having sales today so Walmart is an exception, but that wasn’t the case when I was a little girl in the thirties.

Voting Day was a real big day. It seemed like Sunday in some ways, because the school was closed. It was different though because all of us kids would be outdoors playing, instead of being in Sunday School. The stores were all closed too and the whole street was covered with flags and other red, white and blue banners. We had a parade too, well really, it was just the high school band walking down the street. But the street was lined with people, waving those small flags. Homes were decorated with flags too, and a Holiday dinner was planned. My brother and I were especially happy about that! It was during the depression and most meals were rather small.

I don’t know if that gives you a feeling of Voting Day in a small town in Minnesota, but it was a special day. The day when folks were real Americans and had a part in deciding who would lead us and they weren’t wrong. Maybe we should think of Voting Day as special. Did you vote or were you just butting heads like my neighbor’s goats?

We see those orange buses everywhere during the pickup or bring the kids home, hours. In fact, all of us have had to wait patiently in our cars, while the bus door opens, burps a bit and empties out a load of kids! I pity the driver during the ride to or from school. It’s gotta be noisy!  Yet, each parent anxiously waits for their little ones to come out of that bus. School is over for another day.

That is today. It wasn’t that way in my little northern Minnesota town. Remember I’m 92 years young now. I lived in town and had to walk about a mile to the outskirts of town where the school was. I felt a little jealous when the school bus came into the school’s driveway and let the kids out. The bus was so neat. Why couldn’t we have a bus too? The bus was pulled by two horses. It didn’t have any windows, just canvas squares that you could roll up or down, and it had a coal-burning stove inside. It had wheels when the weather was good. But when it snowed, as it did most of the school year, it had sled runners.

My brother and I waited for the days we could go out in the country on the bus to meet Mom and Dad who were out there at a Ladies aid, or spinning bee and quilting party. You see, my Dad was the pastor of the church and went to all meetings. Sonny and I were happy to ride the bus and join in with the fun and food! Sometimes I went on the bus to stay overnight with my friend. I just loved to ride on that school bus! The kids didn’t complain either. After all, it was warm inside with the glowing fire in the coal burning stove!

There was a picture of a school bus like ours in an old magazine I was looking at the other day, and memories of riding on that old bus just flowed through my old brain, I wonder if memories like these aren’t a gift God gives to us old people!