During this current heat wave, my air conditioner could use just a little bit of help in keeping things cool. Either that, or we need to get a bigger air conditioner. I decided to go the cheap route and purchase a couple of oscillating fans, one for the bedroom and one for the living room.
After purchasing the fans and everyone had gone to sleep, I was sitting in my chair in my living room and just watched the fan do its thing. It was moving from one side to the other and making the sound that most fans make.
It took me back to many years ago to my Grandmother Birckhead’s house on Azalea Drive in Charlottesville, Va. Looking at it from a street view, it had the appearance of a small, simple brick home, but inside it was huge. There were two bedrooms and a full bath on the very top floor, with small doors in each room for the attic. The main floor had the living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. The lower/basement level had a very large family room, a storage area and my grandmother’s beloved sewing room. That is how she made her living. She was a top-of-the-line seamstress, making everything from furniture covers to wedding dresses. She could do it all.
She would rent the two bedrooms on the top floor to students attending the University of Virginia or any other local college. When school wasn’t in session, and no one used those rooms, I would usually choose one to sleep in. It didn’t matter, though, because, from the time I was a baby until she died when I was 22, I have probably slept in every room except the kitchen, two bathrooms and, of course, her sewing room.
Regardless of where I slept in the summertime, there was always an oscillating fan blowing. Back to present day reality, that night in my living room, I found myself transported back in time where I could even smell the mothballs and the Shower to Shower bath powder she also used. I remember sliding down the steps or just sitting on top of the steps to hear what the adults would say.
I always loved going to Charlottesville when I was young. Both sets of my grandparents lived there, so we would always divide our time. My dad would always want to stop in Madison at the Tasty Freeze for a barbecue with coleslaw sandwich, and then, when we got to town, we would have to stop at Jack-N-Jill for a foot-long hot dog with mustard, chili and onions. We would go to the Kinlaw’s side of the family first, then, after visiting for a few minutes with my grandma Dot, my father, brother and I would walk across the bridge over the railroad yard to the downtown mall, which was a brick street with lots of stores, including vacant storefronts. My dad would always share stories about all the places he would visit when he was growing up.
We would then turn down a side street and go to my grandfather’s barber shop for haircuts. Of course, he would only cut my father and brother’s hair, not mine, because that was for a woman to do. He was very old-fashioned. One day, after I cried because he wouldn’t cut my hair, he finally gave in and trimmed my bangs, then gave me a dime to get a Coke out of the machine.
At the Kinlaw’s house, there were two trees great for climbing, and every chance I got, I climbed them. One day, my grandfather Pop saw me in the tree in the front yard and stopped his car in the middle of the road. He proceeded to tell me that no young lady should climb trees. I sat on the porch and just cried because he yelled at me. Of course, dad let me know he was just worried about me falling and getting hurt.
Those trips were the best. Between both sets of grandparents, I grew up exploring the railroad yard, climbing trees, sliding down steps and living a life without electronic gadgets or even watching TV, unless it was what they were watching. And it was great.
Since getting the fans, I've even had dreams of those places and seeing my grandparents and my parents, all of whom have gone on to see Jesus.
It’s amazing how all the memories, sights, dreams, and smells of a simpler, wonderful life came back to me just because of two simple oscillating fans. -
Susan Amundson is news/features editor of The Columbian-Progress. She may be reached at (601) 736-2611 or samundson@columbianprogress.com.
