As the holiday season approaches, I find myself thinking back to how it used to be when I was a child. It feels like the older I get, the more I do that.

It’s not just the holidays that I think of, it’s how life was, in general. Things were so much simpler. Of course, as a child, they would be simpler. No worries about anything. Nothing but playtime, school, and sleeping, but only long enough to get up and play again.

I grew up in Chicago when it wasn’t so violent and crazy. Though my dad had a car, it was much more fun to take a bus or the train downtown for shopping or to the beach in the summertime, with my aunts. Our first house didn’t have central air conditioning. There was a window unit in Mom and Dad’s room and one in the living room, if I’m remembering that right. So going to the beach was the biggest treat.

I remember the big snowstorm of ’67. We were in school when it started to snow. By the time school was out, there was already two feet of snow on the ground, and my sister and I had to walk home eight city blocks because Mom couldn’t get the car out of the garage. But then we were out of school for a couple of weeks. The city was virtually closed because no one could get around anywhere. But we had fun building a snow fort which included a tunnel.

I remember going downtown to see my grandmother, who worked there. She would take us to lunch at Woolworths. What fun! We didn’t go out to eat often. Mom cooked, and that was it. Going to restaurants was for special occasions only, and we always dressed up for it.

There used to be block parties where everyone would get together on the block and pitch in something. A few people would grill burgers and hot dogs, and others would bring salads, jello, potato chips, and coolers filled with cans of pop. Tables lined the sidewalks, and we would just eat, standing up or sitting on front porches. Someone would line up rides on a fire truck from the local fire department, and they would open the fire hydrant because it was summer and it was hot. Those were the best times, and people actually liked each other.

Everyone looked out for each other, too. Kids could play safely because there was always a mom or dad or grandparents sitting on the front porch, keeping an eye out. No parent got offended when another parent saw a child doing something stupid where they could get hurt or hurt someone else and yelled and reprimanded them. Sometimes, the adult would take the offending child by the arm and drag them home to mom and dad. Sometimes too, they would be right there when a child got hurt, ready with first aid and usually a sweet treat.

So many memories, most of them good. If only I could have bottled those up to be opened in times like these when everyone lives in their own personal bubble and couldn’t care less about their neighbor. I see glimpses of that now and then, and that’s comforting.

I’m glad for my family, who remain close-knit and look out for each other. They keep those memories alive too, especially whenever we get together for special occasions. We always take a stroll down Memory Lane together and usually end up laughing until we can’t breathe.

But I still miss the old days.