My brother and I saved pop bottles and paper bags and returned them to Mr. Bailey, the grocery store owner to earn enough money to go to the picture show. We didnít call them movies. They were picture shows. It cost a whole ten cents.

A man came out from Fort Smith, every Saturday night, bringing a portable projector and they hung a white sheet on one wall of the town hall.

First we saw a cartoon, then a chapter of the weekly serial. We had to make sure we went every Saturday night so we didnít miss anything. My favorite was, The Phantom. Then we usually saw a western movie.

The town hall was up a steep hill, across the road from the church. We had no street lights so my grandmother always made sure my brother carried a flash light.

If you have read some of my other memories, you know that my brother loved to tease me. Well, he always ran away from me and got to the bottom of the hill and turned out the flash light. I stumbled along in total darkness, scared to death that I might go to near the edge of the road and fall in a ditch. I knew full well it would do no good to beg and plead for him to turn on the light.

When he heard me coming near, heíd jump out and scare me.

I grew to know that road pretty well in the dark but later they moved the picture show from the town hall to the indoor roller rink where they still used a sheet for the screen. It was on the highway and a little farther away from home. I finally tattled on my brother, he got a good scolding and behaved himself from then on. At least as far as going to the picture show, that is.

A golden memory from childhood.

By Lora Cox ©2001