So there I was, quietly driving along Highway 101 at the southern end of Lincoln City, Oregon, scoping out quirky little happy crap shops and art galleries, when I happened upon a scene so typically “Americana Nostalgia” that it took my breath away.
Two boys, ages estimated between nine and eleven, were carefully maneuvering their bicycles along the narrow shoulder of the roadway. They both wore backpacks, obviously stuffed full of the necessities of nine to eleven year old boys. One of them also had a basket on his bike, and it, too, was apparently packed with pre-teen survival basics.
Out of the top of each of their backpacks, two specific items clearly protruded: a fishing pole and a skateboard. My mind immediately flashed back to the good old days of “The Andy Griffith Show,” set in the generic small town of Mayberry, North Carolina, and I thought lovingly of the widowed Sheriff’s son, little freckled-face Opie.
Opie, a.k.a. Ron Howard, and I were born the same year. Had we lived in the same generic small town, we would have undoubtedly been in the same class together. Skateboards had not gained much popularity outside California at that time, but I imagine we might have ridden our bikes together and perhaps gone fishing. Heck, we might even have been best friends!
Now don’t go bursting my bubble here; I’m waxing sentimentally nostalgic, remember? And nostalgia has a tendency to blur the line between reality and life-as-we-wish-it-could-have-been. In my personal scenario, brought on by the casual observation of two young boys out to experience an afternoon adventure, Opie and I naturally fall in love and live happily ever after in quaint little two-story house surrounded by a white picket fence.
Norman Rockwell and I painted it just that way.