Sunday night, Davis and I were watching The Price is Right reruns. Yeah, you read that right. Sunday is and always has been the worst TV day. As a kid, I remember how long Sunday afternoon was with only the Wide World of Sports, Bob Ross, and Justin Wilson’s Louisiana Cookin’ to entertain us. I “gha-rawn-tee” it was a long afternoon. It was a good thing the comics came in the paper, at least. Anyway, I stumbled across The Price Is Right on Roku. It was young Bob Barker in the days of his dark hair and plaid pants. Y’all know how nostalgic I am. It’s crazy, but the familiar music, buzzers, and voices all made me feel like I was in the 3rd grade- home on the gold plaid couch with a fever and sore throat. All I needed was ravioli and Jell-O on a TV tray with my mother standing over me with pink amoxicillin in a spoon and some makeup worksheets on diagramming sentences sitting nearby. There was something so comforting about watching that. It really took me back. If you all haven’t noticed by now, I look back on my childhood with much cherished delight. 

I loved The Price Is Right and how they’d have all those prizes arranged on those shag carpeted platforms that would turn around to reveal the glorious treasure trove of the latest and greatest. I don’t care what game they were playing, there always seemed to be a grandfather clock or a baker’s rack or an organ on the line. There was a washer and dryer and an electric range up for grabs on this particular episode we were watching. The washer/dryer combo was harvest gold- the range was avocado green and I told Davis they’re all probably still out there working just fine- unlike the ones we buy now. I love a stroll down memory lane and I really enjoyed finding that show. 

Other things from childhood I miss include but are not limited to: Kool-aid popsicles made in Tupperware molds. Digging for prizes in the cereal box. Saturday morning cartoons. Sporting new clothes the first week of school. A fresh minty jar of paste. Circling coveted things in the Sears Christmas Wish Book. Playing in the rain. Neighborhood games of whiffle ball. Spend the night invitations. Brach’s candy counters. Pick up sticks. Cut-off blue jeans and bare feet. Big Wheels. Weekly Readers. The smell of Doritos and duplex cookies in a metal lunchbox. 

What is it about childhood memories that makes them so dear? I think it might be that we like to remember the safety we felt then. A time when we weren’t in charge or responsible for much. If there was something unsettling going on, we were protected from it and were blissful in our ignorance. Someone else was paying the bills. Watching the weather. Keeping up with what size shoe we wore. Shutting off the television when the news was scary. Buying our toothpaste. Making our doctor’s appointments. Scooting us out of the room for serious discussions. Deciding what was best. Our only jobs were to climb trees and ride bikes and maybe vacuum the carpet when company was coming. When we get older, we trade all that play for work and soon we become the person in charge. Other people become dependent on us. With that come responsibility and worry- concepts we’re not too familiar with when we’re young. There’s no longer anyone standing between us and the knowledge of the realities of life. 

I read a story about Corrie Ten Boom today that I loved. As a child, she was traveling on a train with her father and asked him a question which she wasn’t mature enough to have answered yet. “He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise, he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case off the floor and set it back on the floor. ‘Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?’ he said. I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning. ‘It’s too heavy,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ he said ‘and it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way with knowledge, Corrie. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.’” 

I look back and am so grateful for the gift of innocence my parents gave me. They guarded it and shielded me and played defense against anything that would threaten to take it from me before it was time. I grew up and we gave the same effort to giving our kids their due time to just be young and free from worry. We live in a day that seems bent on stuffing kids’ schedules, rushing them ahead, and filling their heads with things that are way beyond their years, I hope we, as the adults in their lives, will stand guard for them. They only get one chance to be little. To be innocent. To be blissfully unaware of the harshness of life. To have free time to do whatever they’d like to do. To enjoy the warm security of knowing that they’re being tended to by people who love them. Childhood may only make up a small percentage of a person’s life, but it will be the time the mind travels back to most. Good or bad. 

I remember when Blair was turning 12, she saw a dollhouse she really wanted. She was still playing with dolls which she kept hidden in her closet in case her friends came to visit. She wasn’t grown enough to be ready to give them up, but she was mature enough to realize it could be a source of ridicule. After talking it over, Davis and I decided to go ahead and get the dollhouse for her 12th birthday even though it seemed late in the game for such a purchase. We didn’t just get the house. We got the furniture, the accessories, the whole family, the pets- the entire expensive deal. Even with the arrival of the teenage years practically within sight, if her heart wanted to frolic in the innocence of childhood for a few more months, we wanted to help her squeeze all the good out of that sweet, once-in-a-lifetime stage. As the song says, “Once you pass its borders, you can never return again.” Sure enough- within the year, the dollhouse and all the sold-separately accessories were put away, but she got all the childhood her heart could hold before she left it behind. 

One of the greatest gifts we can give the children in our lives is to let them be little -all the way up to the time they’re not. May we not let one drop of childhood go to waste. There are so many threats to their innocence that they need us to repel. It’s something worth protecting! 

Have a great week! 

JONI