Dear Looking Back Friends,
A few summers ago Janice and I decided that we would finally have to replace the siding on the old home place. The siding had been there over 40 years, but it had finally succumbed to bouts of winter storms, summer heat and intermittent termite attacks, so we decided we would replace it with that newfangled vinyl siding.
When the fellow from the siding company came to estimate the cost of the job, his first words were, "You're gonna replace that old metal roof too, aren't you?"
Now I hadn't even thought about that. Few people still have corrugated steel on their roofs, but both Janice and I were raised under one, as were our children. We had to replace part of the roof after a violent spring storm once, but we naturally got some new sheets of metal, and I tacked it up there myself. Over the years we made countless trips to the rooftop to coat the roof or to daub nail holes which had begun to leak.
Why haven't we replaced that before now? I asked myself as the estimator awaited my answer. My mind drifted back for the answer.
I remembered when Mama, Daddy and we three children, sharing the same bedroom of our three-room homestead, listened to the gentle drone of spring rain on the tin roof. Better than any lullaby, it softly sang us to sleep.
I remembered winters when snow accumulated on the steep pitch of the roof. Mama's summertime exhortation of "Don't slam the screen door!" had extra emphasis when the thump! triggered an avalanche, burying the offending child. (I used it to my advantage once. My cousin, Gary, was chasing me through the front room, murder on his mind. As I flew out the front door, I gave the screen a little extra slam -- enough to drop a roof-full of snow on the Gary's head.)
I remembered the seasons of rain, hail, wind, sun and snow our old roof had held back from us and our three children. I remembered the decades of warmth, joy, peace and love it had capped so faithfully.
"Well … ?" the workman wanted to know.
I looked across to my dear wife, her eyes filled with the same memories. "Naw," I said. "I think I'll just leave that like it is."
So the old home place now is a lot like Janice, me and many of our old friends. The outside may be a bit different after all these years, but if you look at the foundation -- it's the same. And if you look at the roof -- weathered, tough and always looking upward -- it's the same too. I'll still hear the whisper of rain on the old metal roof. And Janice and I will still slip into slumber to gentle memories of the Good Old Days.
'Til next time,
Ken Tate, editor
Ken and Janice Tate are the editors of Good Old Days and Looking Back magazines. They were both born and raised in the Ozark Mountains; he in southern Missouri and she in northern Arkansas. They met and fell in love when Janice was a senior in high school and married when she was 18 years old.
They raised three children while Ken worked for newspapers and magazines-from the Ozarks to California to Texas. After the children were older, Janice was always at his side working on the publications he edited. Together, they have edited the Good Old Days line of magazines and books for over two decades. Through the magazines, books and his Looking Back e-newsletter, Ken has become one of the most popular nostalgic authors in North America. Ken hopes to still be editing the magazines when Good Old Days reaches its 50th anniversary in 2014.
Today, the Tates live on a 400-acre beef ranch that has been in their family for four generations. They still enjoy working outdoors on the farm, and Janice enjoys sewing and quilting. Headed toward their fifth decade of marriage, they say their biggest joy is spending time together, whether it's on the farm, in the garden, or working on one of their magazines or books.
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