Jack Miller

Mom’s Driving Lesson
Learning to drive the smooth-operating cars of today, with their automatic transmissions and hydraulic brakes, is a snap compared to the rough-handling ones of the days of our mothers and fathers.

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Mother’s Day is coming soon, and I always like to write a poem for my late mother to help me through the sadness of not having her here anymore. Knowing how giving mom always was, I know she would want to share the poem with all the other mothers out there.

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Let’s face it, the majority of people we meet as kids do not stick in our minds that well. If they aren’t family, there has to be something unique about them to make them memorable. One of the really unique people I can still remember from my childhood was an old wolf hunter, and unique isn’t a strong enough word to describe him.

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I owe my overweight status to the fact that I had a mother and grandmother while I was growing up who had few peers when it came to cooking, and oh how I enjoyed getting this way. This Mid-Missouri Memory always makes my mouth water.

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One of the things most of us do not miss about the days before the synthetic breed of tires came along is fixing flats. In those days of less durable tires, the rite of passage from passenger to driver included the ability to not only change a tire, but also to fix a flat. The following Mid-Missouri Memory probably won't mean much to younger drivers, but to those of us with a little grey in our hair, it will.

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Summer days are not far away, and if you are like me, they will bring you some memories of when you were young and carefree. No memory I have says that better than when I think about shedding my shoes as a boy for summer vacation. I hope this memory will help you revive those memories of your own barefoot days.

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As I have written before, there are certain things that can trigger memories. One of those things for me is driving through the old neighborhood I grew up in. I did that a few days ago, and it brought forth a lot of memories. This time the memories came from an old brick house that stood on the corner of 5th and New York. I say stood, because it has been demolished and was just a pile of bricks with its broken roof resting precariously on top of them.

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Sedalia seemed huge before everyone owned a car or had access to one. Most people took a bus or walked to town in the '40s and '50s. There were cars then too, of course, but not enough to cause traffic jams in Sedalia. There was not much need for personal transportation, when a bus ride was a nickel and a transfer would let you ride all over Sedalia for that one fare. My uncle Bill Wickliffe drove a bus in those days, and I liked sitting right behind him so I could watch him maneuver that big machine around tight corners without running over everything.  Riding the bus was almost a social activity in those days, and a lot of gossip was shared on those slow rides to downtown Sedalia.

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This week, my workouts were cut short thanks to a cough and cold. Since I am feeling under the weather and am not breathing too good, it seemed like a good idea to skip Friday’s rehab.

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The Roundhouse
A lot of people think a railroad is just trains, depots and tracks, but the truth is they consist of many parts, and Sedalia had them all at one time. Some of those parts, unlike the depots and trains, have disappeared completely, and it made me wonder how many people remember those that are no longer here.

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