Cooperative Living January 2017 - 42

Rural Living | by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
A Walk in the Woods and
Wistful Winter Memories
Then, we'd drag the sleds back up to the driveway, have some cocoa,
let our frozen mittens and gloves dry off a bit, and get right back out there.
Those sledding parties are some of my favorite childhood memories.
B
y now I'm hoping it has snowed. Or
is snowing this very minute!
I can't figure why I love snow so
much. For one thing, I do love to shovel
snow (as I've mentioned countless times).
There's gratification in seeing a wellshoveled
path to wherever I need to go.
But the truth is, I don't really need
to go anywhere in the snow. And if I
do, I find a reason to bow out. " Too
dangerous; I might fall, " I can say, with a
nod to my new knees.
There is one sad winter truth: I will
never go sledding again. Oh, how I loved
that, too. So did Daddy. He'd be right out
there with us, " supervising, " he'd say, but
really having just as much fun as we were.
I remember those snowy days as a kid.
We lived in the middle of a long, singlelane
blacktopped road. In his State Trooper
guise, Daddy would hike up and block off
the top of the road from traffic. All the
neighbor kids would join the sledding
party, sometimes even at night. Daddy
would build a fire at the end of the
driveway. Mom would make hot chocolate
in a big metal coffee pot, and keep it warm
over the fire. Daddy and all us kids would
haul our sleds up to the top of the road
and fly down all the way to the end, which
fortunately ended with a little rise; that
stopped us.
Then, we'd drag the sleds back up to
the driveway, have some cocoa, let our
frozen mittens and gloves dry off a bit,
and get right back out there. Those
sledding parties are some of my favorite
childhood memories.
Funny, but I was reminded of them
recently.
I am thrilled to report that I am now
walking in the woods again (I write this
column in October, deadlines being what
they are). I'm so happy to be out there in
40 | Cooperative Living | January 2017
the gorgeous fall woods! I walk on a
private road, where I tramp along, smiling.
I almost never see anyone on these walks,
and I like it that way.
But one day, there I was trudging and
gaping at the beauty, and I spied a fellow
walking toward me. He wore a jaunty
cap, and had a walking stick.
He looked a bit familiar
when he passed and
said hello. But I was
focused on that
walking stick.
One of our
favorite family
Sunday outings
was a walk in
the woods.
Daddy made sure
we each had a
perfectly honed and
sturdy walking stick.
They'd stand ready at the
back door, all four of them.
I started thinking about Daddy,
and missing him very much.
" Hey Daddy, " I called up toward
heaven. " I need you to find me a walking
stick, please. "
I started looking for a likely prospect,
but could not find one. Then, not 10
minutes later, I noticed the fellow in
the jaunty cap walking back toward me.
We exchanged pleasantries about the
glorious day, and the view all the way
to West Virginia.
" That's a fine walking stick you have, "
I told him. " I've been looking for one
myself, after seeing it. "
" Here, " he said. " Take this one. "
" What? You're giving it to me? "
" Sure. I've got plenty more. "
Good heavens! That's what I call
instant gratification!
" You look familiar, " I said. And then it
One of our
favorite family Sunday
outings was a walk in the
woods. Daddy made sure
we each had a perfectly
honed and sturdy
walking stick.
hit me.
" Are you one of the Lindsay boys? "
" Yes; I'm David. "
(My father's name, wouldn't you know?)
" Y'all used to live up on the back road, "
I said. " I'm Dave McCollum's daughter. "
" I know, " he replied. " Mr.
McCollum was one of
the finest people who
ever lived. Your
mother, too. "
I was
overwhelmed
with emotion.
Then he said,
" I remember
when your dad
would block off
the road so we
could go sledding. "
" That's one of my
favorite childhood
memories! " I said.
" We'd fly down that road, and then
walk up and ... "
" Your mother would have hot chocolate
over a fire at the end of the driveway, "
he finished.
We laughed. He zipped away, and
I continued to huff along the road,
admiring my new walking stick - a
converted golf club: lightweight, metal,
with a leather grip on the top.
I was overcome with glee and awe
at the wonder of it all. I wasn't surprised to
find a tear on my cheek. And a big smile
on my face. ■
Spend the winter reading Margo Oxendine's
book full of columns, A Party of One.
To order, call 540-468-2147 Mon-Thurs,
from 9-5, or email: recorder@htcnet.org.
www.co-opliving.com
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Cooperative Living January 2017

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