PLYMOUTH — “Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
What’s that, you ask?
To hear that sound again, I hopped into the Way Back Machine and arrived on my front porch. I walked in the house, and then yes, I heard that sound.
It was the intoxicating and calming sound of our wooden screen door closing behind me.
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
Oh, how I miss that sound. A simple wooden screen door that kept the bugs out, allowed the cool breeze in, and made sure that we could hear everything that was going on in the neighborhood.
Front doors were never locked. Neither were our car doors. Windows were open with screens in them, and fans were sometimes strategically placed to create a somewhat cooling flow of warm summer air.
We didn’t need no stinking air conditioners. Were they even invented yet?
Simple pleasures derived from a simple life in much simpler times.
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
At Sunday’s Kielbasa Competition, a lot of memories like the rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat came rushing back to me as I waited to sample the nine fresh kielbasas placed before us. I was distracted off and on by the sounds of the Polka Bandski and the overflow crowd in the American Legion Post 463 — it really was a great time — as I kept returning to Plymouth when I was a kid.
So after the competition, I slowly drove up and down Main Street, marveling at the number of vendors and attendees, and I recalled what used to be along old Route 11 in my hometown.
• Plymouth High School and Junior High are gone, but I could see the brick buildings, connected by a second-floor walkway, the winding sidewalks, and the tall trees. And I could see Huber Field with its magnificent wall and bleachers, and Plymouth Little League with its wooden fence and its fine trimmed grass.
• Next, I saw Golden Quality, where you could get the best CMP, banana split, or milkshake in Wyoming Valley. The ice cream factory is gone. The ice cream shop is a laundromat.
• Walt’s Servette is long gone, but the building remains. Kids would hang out there, order a burger, fries, and a soda, put a dollar in the juke box, and dance.
• The Gaylord Armory, where the Plymouth Shawnee Indians played their home games, is now a church. The gymnasium, with its horseshoe balcony and bleachers that were always filled with loyal fans, is all a memory.
• A Dunkin’ drive-thru store sits where the Shawnee Theater once stood. Gone are the Saturday matinees and the beautiful marquee. So many memories of the Three Stooges, the Rascals, and all those westerns.
• Across the street at the corner of Main and Gaylord Avenue was Jimeal’s Restaurant, where many Plymouth couples had their wedding reception, and Jimmy Moses was always there with a welcoming smile. A Turkey Hill mini-mart/gas station sits there now.
• You can still see the buildings that housed Shawnee TV, where most Plymouth residents bought their first color TV. And the old Fainberg Furniture store — one of them anyway — is still there, as is C. Matus News, where we learned how to play pool.
• The former Rea & Derick store is still there, but with a different tenant. It’s right next to where Bill Goldstein’s Hardware Store was and, actually, still is, under new ownership.
• Al Wasley’s Jewelry Store building remains, but it’s now home to Hudacek’s Law Firm.
• The store from where Joe’s Pizza is something else, as well. Joe’s was owned by Joe Paglianite, who went on to create and build the Grotto Pizza chain. We would enter Joe’s, walk down the ramp, and then up to the counter and order a small pie and a soda for a buck.
• Red’s Subs is still there with the original owner still making the best hoagies around — always order one with extra meat.
• Smolok’s Market, where we would ride our bicycles to purchase Wiffle balls and bats — they always had them in stock — is closed, but the building is there.
• And I don’t want to forget Brodmarkle’s — a store that was always there, but we never went in because we weren’t sure what it was they sold. The building is now being renovated, we are told, and will include apartments.
• And I could see Hacker’s Market, Mergo’s, Mitchell Plessett’s Men’s Store, Ben Franklin Store, Dwyer’s Restaurant, and Weil’s women’s fashion store.
We were content with that pace of life. We didn’t have those damn cell phones to check and re-check and update and search and curse at if the Wi-Fi was down.
Nope, we would just walk out onto the front porch, sit in the shade of a huge maple tree, and wait for something — anything — to happen.
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
Oh, how relaxing it was. Maybe we would climb a cherry tree or pick some peaches or plums from the other trees, or see who had the ripest tomatoes. We would drag out the Strat-O-Matic game and roll the dice. We would keep stats, and we would be sure to finish before supper.
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
In for supper with mom and dad. Everything homemade. Oh, those mashed potatoes, green beans, mom’s gravy, and roast beef. A warm slice of apple pie and a glass of milk.
“May I be excused?”
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
Then run up the street to see what was going on with the other kids.
It’s hard to believe, but summer is rapidly coming to an end.
And there is that one sound that we hardly ever hear anymore, and one that I long for every day.
“Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat.”