Downtown

I don't know whether my childhood memories are foggier than most or other peoples' minds automatically fill in details without them realizing it. I only have snippets of memory from when I was very young.
My uncle Jack drove the Lake Worth Bus. I remember him, and I remember that he would pick up my sister and me sometimes on his route to downtown Fort Worth. I'm not sure exactly where we waited for him, but it was on Jacksboro Highway near the border between Lake Worth and Sansom Park. My mother must have called to let him know we would be there. I don't remember what the bus was like or any details of the ride. We never paid.
The best I can remember, we had our allowances for the trip--a whole quarter each. The purpose of the trip was not to find what to spend the small fortune on, but I know it was important to me that I find the right purchase. I don't know whether I considered using it to buy pencils from the man sprawled on the sidewalk with braces on both legs. I'm sure I didn't have a thought to give it to the man playing an out-of-tune guitar and a harmonica held by wires to his mouth or the blind woman beside him who was screeching out almost-familiar hymns.
I remember walking through Stripling's, but my memory is of the quietness, the hard marble floor, and the bell sounding over the speakers that toned out 2-digit numbers. It was another 25 years or so before I understood what the numbers meant.
Most of our time downtown was probably spent in Leonard's. I don't remember the separate water fountains that I've seen in pictures, and it's hard to conjure up images of Leonard's basement before the subway was added. What I do remember is the glass case with warm, salted nuts. More than once I spent my money on warm cashews.
I can't recall when or how we caught the bus to go home. I doubt that I had a watch then, and of course we didn't use a phone. It must have been a pre-arranged time and place, though.
It's funny now to think that two little kids would be allowed to spend a Saturday on their own downtown, but it was a different world.
I miss that world.

Singing

I miss singing.
For my high school and college years I would sing for hours each day. College always started with an hour of choir at 8am. My favorite time was in Madrigal Singers where I was surrounded by other voice parts and had full responsibility for my part.
Since then I have been able to continue singing in a church choir, or at least in the congregation to exercise my voice. I also would sing much of the time driving to work. That all changed when we moved close to my job last year. That's also when we stopped going to church. It isn't that simple, though. I'm not anxious to start going to church again, because much of the service grates against my current beliefs.
Also, I don't feel comfortable singing around the house. It's complicated.
It's not that I think I'm a great singer. Every time I hear my recorded voice I realize once more that I don't really sound as good as it feels like I should sound, no matter what people tell me.
I need to start singing more.