Tasted Tenderness Of Youthful Days

How sweet the newness of youth. Those carefree days when the world was your apple, or your acorn, or your walnut, (you catch the drift).
When summers were slow, springtime was drifting, fall was changing colors for us, and wintertime was still and quiet blanketed with fresh snow.
Seems like life was simplier then, no fuss, no rushing about with no time to do anything. Our childhoods like our golden years fade into memory and the next stage of life begins.
I remember penny candy, nickle cokes, and Quarter priced movie matinee tickets on Saturday. You got to not only see your favorite good guy win over the bad guy, but you got to see an excellent three stooges or bugs bunny prelude to the main feature.
I remember learning to drive in a 1946 Ford 1Ton Flat Bed truck. I sat on coke box to see out the windshield, shaved the manual gears until they didn't grind anymore when I forgot to put in the clutch before shifting. I drove because I was only 11 or 12 years old. The other older kids and adults loaded the hay onto the truck.
I remember having to get up around 4AM each morning, getting the dairy cattle ready for milking (by hand).
By the time I got to school, my day was more than half over. When I got home, it all started again. We had chores to do, then if any daylight was left we got to go hunting squarrils with our buddies.
Tasted tenderness of youthful days have been gone for a while now, toughened by life wearing itself into the skin and soul of this aging man.
Bob Lester