Cabin fever, and pictures from old Kansas City

When my parents and I first moved to Kansas City in 1956, we lived in Harlem for three years. It wasn't a slum, but it was a very poor section of town. I was unhappy about our having to leave the farm where we lived previously, but being so close to the Missouri River almost made up for it. Back then, you could walk right to the river's edge. That's my daddy in front, and some cousins following him. The A.S.B. bridge in the background made for a wonderful playground!


You could walk right up the steps and walk across on a sidewalk into downtown Kansas City.

My mom had tons of friends, and she'd come home from work at night exhausted and seem happy as could be to receive calls from all the neighbors. I'm afraid I'm the opposite: When the phone rings, I think, "Oh no."

That's a postcard picture of the old Municipal airport, which was also a short walk from our home in Harlem. This was another fun place for me to hang out. I'd watch airplanes landing and taking off for awhile, then wander through the terminal picking up travel brochures with pictures of exotic places and dream of flying away someday. There were pay toilets there, but that didn't foil me and my cousins. One of us would crawl under the door, use the facility, and then let the others in one at a time.

I've been snippy and grumpy this month, and it's due to the weather, I'm sure. Two of my favorite outdoor pastimes, horseback riding and jaunts on the motorcycle, are put on hold. I've tried riding my horse when it's frigid, but I've found that at any temperature under 45°, my toes go numb with the cold. Unless I confine my ride to fifteen minutes. Which hardly warrants all the trouble of retrieving the horse, grooming him, and saddling him up.

Cliff and I do take our walk in the pasture each day no matter the temperature; once you get moving, you stay comfortable. I have Carharts, you know. And wear a stocking cap. Our walk used to take a half-hour, but with my knees the way they are these days, I have to walk softly so as not to jar them, which has extended the time to about forty-five minutes. I've told Cliff he has his choice: Walk at his own speed to get his cardio benefit, or saunter slowly with me.

I've been watching the ten-day forecasts throughout this month, and all I've seen in my future was bitter cold. Now, finally, weather.com has given me some small hope that we'll warm up. Highs in the forties next weekend? I'll take 'em!

We'll go to Cliff's aunt's funeral today; that's a two-hour drive to Versailles. Last weekend we went to a cousin's husband's funeral in the same town. My mom and dad always said funerals come in threes, so I'm wondering who's next! I hope it isn't me, I want a few more motorcycle rides before I check out.