Progress

This week, while staying at my parents' house, I've availed myself of the warm, sunny, dry weather of the Southern Frontier and my sister's stroller. Baby G loves to be outside in the stroller, and being outside keeps me from going insane quickly.

My first day out, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my parents' neighborhood is now stroller-friendly. Growing up, my parents lived on an unpaved, dead-end road on the western outskirts of town. Somehow, in the 23 years since my parents moved into their home, their neighborhood has become the heart of downtown (and has boasted a paved street for 15 years). Where there was once one way out of the neighborhood, there are now three. Where there are homes there used to be fields of allergy-inducing alfalfa. There is a grocery store, gas station, McDonalds, Wendys, lumber store, post office, city office, two banks, a Dairy Queen and a smattering of odd shops in a couple of strip malls within four blocks of my parents' house.

Each day, as we have set out on our daily adventure, I have been hit with memories. Not since I got my driver's license some 13 years ago have I had reason to walk through the neighborhood of my childhood. Baby G and I wandered the new subdivision next door - I pictured the old pecan trees that used to grow among a field populated by various animals and antique farm machinery. In its place now resides paved streets, sidewalks (heretofore not seen in the neighborhood), utility connections and a handful of homes. We continued over to the next street. As a child, the street led to four things - an orchard; the home of Mrs. Carol, an elderly woman whom my siblings and I used to visit, always leaving with some trinket or treat; the home of an elderly couple who observed no holidays as Jehovah's Witnesses, to whom we would deliver "Have a Nice Day" treats on major holidays; and the power transformer on the hill at the end of the road.

Only Mrs. Carol's house and the transformer still remain. As I pushed the stroller through the subdivision that now resides where the orchard once grew, I was hit with even more memories - the summer adventures and picnics that meant hiking around and playing on the volcanic hill that now provides a backdrop for the subdivision; horseback riding through the orchard on a friend's horse; riding my bike up and down the one paved street in the neighborhood. There were few cars then and even fewer houses. There were horses and fields and elderly couples. Now the neighborhood bustles with traffic, children play in the yards and only one decrepit farm outbuilding still remains.

Progress made it possible for Baby G and I to explore and adventure. Progress has made it possible to run one's errands in mere minutes. Progress has raised the value of my parents' home.

As I walked, I found myself telling Baby G (sleeping peacefully in the stroller) of all the changes that had taken place - my one-sided conversation liberally sprinkled with, "I remember when ..."

Progress made me feel old.