Saturday Night Fun

Going to town on Saturday night during the summer was the highlight of our week. Something to be anticipated from the time we arrived back at the farm until it was time to leave for the next trip. Some times we went across the river to Burkburnett and some times we went to Grandfield.

We always left home about mid-afternoon, so we could sell the excess cream from our milk cows, then we shopped for groceries and had a fountain drink at the drugstore.

After that we went to the picture show. If we were lucky, there was an installment in the serial and a double-feature. The smell of rich, buttered popcorn was so tempting. Some times we had money to buy a sack, some times not. After the movie was over, we sat in the car on Main Street and watched to see who else had come to town and, when people we knew strolled by, they would stop to visit.

If I had money, my mom would let me go to the five-and-dime store. There, I'd spend what seemed like forever pouring over every item before I made the decision to part with my meager funds. I loved the way the store carried the scent of oiled wooden floors and, always, there was the aroma of candy corn.

When it was time for the grocery store to close, we went back and collected our bags. We'd left them just inside the building because it was cooler than the car. I wonder what we possibly could have bought that would have spoiled? Not milk or meat, we grew those. Perhaps, though, it had to do with status. I recall a touch of pride in the voices of my parents as they stood among other customers and pointed out several sacks of food. Was it my imagination or was a family's success indicated by how well they ate?

Usually, around the first of August, we'd go to the dry goods store and buy material so my mother could sew school clothes. Occasionally, we'd make a special trip to Wichita Falls and go to Levine's or Penney's to buy fabric, but often we bought it in Grandfield. Picking out a pair of shoes for the winter was so special that it was saved for a night all its own.

I always knew summer was at an end and fall was near the night my dad bought his winter dress jacket, a leather blazer. To this day, when I smell the scent of leather, I remember his quiet pride as he tried them on. Perhaps that, too, was a status thing. He didn't buy them during lean years on the farm.

Lookin' back, I remember how long it was from one Saturday night to the next. Summer days were filled with chores and seemed to pass with agonizing slowness. Our trip to town was a pleasure worth anticipating.