 Remember When?  With supper
over and chores all done,
And Grandpa
in his chair,
We sat
cross-legged on the floor.
There was no
carpet there.
 We held our
breath and watched in awe,
The
Firestone standing there,
Never
touched by boisterous hands,
But dusted
with such care.
The moment
came when he turned it on,
And static
filled the air,
With patient
turning of the knobs,
He found a
station there.
Bright
colors behind numbers,
In green,
yellow, red and blue,
For us was
the attraction,
Not what the
radio could do.
He tuned it
in and a voice was heard,
We didn't
make a sound,
But sat
there listening, so entranced,
At the magic
all around.
The
highlight at the end of day,
Was Grandma
mending socks,
And Grandpa
turning the Firestone on,
And later,
winding clocks.
© 2002 Loree (Mason) O’Neil
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