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I remember when the city I live in had less than half a million inhabitants and we all knew each other. On Friday nights the youth would go to the park where the tradition was for boys to walk counter clockwise while the girls would be walking clockwise and as they kept passing each other they would size each other up and giggle and laugh amongst themselves. This had become a tradition for one hundred years and it looked as though it would continue but times began to change and the city grew and strangers from other parts of the country began to pour in bringing with them the lack of culture and courtesy that the people of this city had sustained changing the outlook that they treasured before.

More robberies began to occur and as the city kept growing the traffic became worse causing more accidents being that the city was built in a provincial design 500 years ago. Vanishing narrow streets and Spanish homes built close together made such a picturesque sight of a quiet and lazy place. Now as the city grew, they began to open streets, knocking beautiful old buildings down and replacing them with modern skyscrapers and nobody knew each other anymore retiring to their homes behind rod iron gates or high walls that covered the beauty of gardens inside.
Times have changed again and now you're afraid to go out because of so many drug lords that have taken over,even though they say they have controlled them, but you constantly hear that there's always talk of killings around. Empty cars found with dead people inside their trunks or thrown in some hiway.
Yet, the city remains steadfast with some of it's old buildings still standing like the maine Cathedral that is over 500 years old housing grand treasures inside and its picturesque down town filled with arches and fountains that still give it a place to remember when things were so peaceful. but it's only the certain people that enjoy this. The rest are behind their walls.

I remember when I was a young teenager my family spent many a summer evening at the stock car races here in town. Good old Tunis Speedway is long gone, but the memories it left behind will live on as long as anyone who was ever there is breathing air.

You had to get there early if you wanted a good parking spot in the weedy field next to the fenced in track. Dad would go to the ticket window to buy tickets for himself, my mom, my little brother, and me. We found the best seats left in the bleachers and settled in. Oh, those bleachers! The longer you sat on them the harder they got. With no backrest you had to really enjoy the races to be willing to sit there though the whole exhibition. We waited patiently, or not.

My dad usually went down to the pit to talk to his two cousins and a brother-in-law who were making ready for their first races of the night. When the engines started roaring, we knew Dad would be coming back. And then… out the cars rolled! Red, yellow, black, green, you name it the color was probably on at least one car. They circled that old dirt track in all their beat up majesty. The excitement built. It wouldn’t be long now.

The dust rolled, hopefully the wind blew it away from the spectators, and the cars lined up. They started around the track and when everything was set the flagman signaled them to go. Speed was the name of the game. They all roared as they picked up speed and circled the track to see who could gain the edge. We sat there holding our breath.

I remember sitting down to write to the Flash Fiction challenge yesterday. That's sorta surprizing because there's many moments of yesterday that I couldn't recall on a bet!
Anyway, I set down to pour forth a tale of fantasy and then remembered that I was supposed to box up and ship a couple of laptop computers that I want my son (the computer shiz-kid) to freshen up for me. So, I managed to write: "It was a cold, clear New Jersey evening..." and that's as far as I got with it. I had (and still do have) a tale in mind to tell. It remains to be seen if I follow thru and make something of it.

OK, looking at the clock, I see I've expended 5 of my 15 minutes so far...

Anyway, I got the two laptops safely ensconsed in an old suitcase as their shipping container - locked the latches on it - and put a shipping label on the suitcase handle. I like using these old suitcases as shipping containers. They're much more durable and protective than your average cardboard box. AND, you can pick them up at thrift shops and yard sales for less than a buck in many cases. Such a deal.

So with the suitcase ready to ship, I loaded it into my Studebaker and off to town I went. I got to the UPS store just in time to arrange for the shipping and see it loaded onto one of their big brown delivery vans. Then I swung by the post office to drop off several post cards to members of congress and then onto SaveMart to pick up some food stuffs.
I had a plan to make my special fried rice for dinner and I needed some sausage to do so. That and some eggs as well as I'd eaten the last couple of eggs for breakfast that morning.
Sausage, eggs, some bread and pretzels - some Vernors ginger ale and some frozen peas and I was back in the Studebaker and headed home again. Once home, I fixed the fried rice and served it to the wife, the birds and myself. Then I came back to the office and found the line:"It was a cold, clear New Jersey evening..." still waiting the next words. Didn't happen tho. Now I'm not sure it will. Oops! 15 minutes!

Hah! Supposed to read "Whiz-kid" but I can't correct it because Eons, in their Whiz-dumb, can't seem to afford us an edit feature. :p

I remember deciding to be like Aunt Sarah, I was five. They said she was crazy, hmmm by some standards maybe, but to a child of five trying to make sense of a world that made no sense, trying desperately to be lovable, she was my queen, my guardian angel, my mentor and the one who showered with me with smiles, hugs, and loud bellyaching laughs. I never needed to run and hide from Aunt Sarah. Anyway I was five and I had Aunt Sarah.

She was called the dotty one, the one who lived in the shadows of her own mind. I was the lucky one for very once in a while she came out to spend some time with me. God I loved the woman. They called her crazy even when in the same room, but not once did she ever hurt me or say mean things that could cause a smile to die before it had peaked. She taught how to travel in the caverns of my own mind, to see what others could not, to not feel hurt or pain, to switch it all off, like a light and call forth the land of pretty dreams where there were lakes of liquid diamonds, trees I could climb to the stars to see far off things – how to make wishes and then how to make them true just by closing my eyes. She taught me how to put a sentry at the door who would protect me with a mighty roar, a warrior with such strength he could keep armies out if needed. Aunt Sarah taught me how to not remember some things, how not to carry bad stuff around and lose me. She taught me to cling to hope when there was no reason too. She taught of the safe place to go within. So if Aunt Sarah was crazy, I thought crazy was just where I wanted to be.

When I think of her now, I wish she could have found some things in her life worth sticking around for to not have traveled permanently away. I guess for a short while I might have been that haven, her safe place. I know she was for me. I have never forgotten Aunt Sarah, and my stories of her are far different than what some others might tell. She was not crazy but my “Blue Fairy” who taught me to ride out storms small children should not have to. She taught me how to wait for my “real" and to be sure that it was "coming."

Aunt Sarah, I remember as all loving warmth and whimsy. I never doubted for a moment when I was with her that I was worthy, wanted and a princess fair. Every child should have a "someone" like that.

She was gone by the time I was ten. I never thought she was crazy just one too tender for this world and so she went within and for short periods came out to be with me, I remember and I thank her.

Zoe, Doe and Rae - I liked all your stories.

Zoe, I sure can relate to the passing of innocence and civic pride. Such a loss swept thru the once proud neighborhood where my dad grew up and where I spent the first five years of my life. Really disheartening to see that transformation.

Doe, I never went to races like that as a kid. I'm sure there were such where I lived - it just wasn't something my family did. I might have been more car crazy as a kid if we had tho!

RaeLyn, I had an uncle who was a little off center. Of course, no small part of his imbalance came out of a bottle, but he always made me feel special. You don't forget things like that. I think part of why he was so nice to me was that he and his wife never had any kids of their own. I just wish uncle Joe had lived long enough that I'd have been able to have an adult conversation with him.

Arcade, My dad was an auto mechanic. He loved most anything to do with cars. Driving them, repairing them, watching them race, you name it. Hence the Sunday nights at the races. When I watched those cars speed around the track I was sure that one day I would race in the powderpuffs, the ladies heat! It never happened, by age sixteen I'd developed other interests. LOL

I remember my first night in New York City to pursue my career as a dancer. I checked into the residential hotel suggested by the school that I was going to be attending, unpacked and decided to explore the city a little. I found my way to the Village and AMDA where I would be mainly studying for my Broadway career, then returned to the hotel to rest. Dusk arrived and I decided to go out and get something to eat and explore the city by night. I was so naive. I headed to where the lights were brightest and being near 32nd had no idea that at the time the lights were for theaters that specialized in porno, etc. It was a little disconcerting to see so many theater with XX and XXX ratings in huge neon lights. Yikes! As I nervously walked along a number of men whistled or made remarks. I got scared and was trying to remember my way back to the hotel when a well dressed man approached me and asked me if I wanted a Sugar Daddy. I replied that I did not eat candy, thinking he meant the lollipop called Sugar Daddy. He gave me an odd look and thankfully walked away. Guess I was lucky to have, not just one guardian angel watching out for me, but a flock flying around my head.

I look back at my early days in New York and laugh now. What a typical little girl from the Midwest.
I was wild-eyed, trustful of all, and believed I was going to become a STAR!! I was lucky. Several weeks later I was able to get into The Rehearsal Club further uptown where I was part of a group of young women living in a protective atmosphere of others trying to make their way in the world of theater, dance and music. I remember with awe this time period of my life.

LOL! dd, I had much the same experience in Frisco in early '65. I was on my way overseas and had to wait a week to catch a flight to the far east. I decided to stay a the YMCA hotel in Frisco - really my first time ever in such a big city. And FRISCO remember! I was propositioned I don't know HOW MANY times by GUYS!
I was happy when I finally got on the plane for the Philippines!