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<p>WILKES-BARRE &#8212; With Thursday&#8217;s opening of the 2019 Farmers Market on Public Square, I got to thinking about those simpler times of our lives.</p><p>Back when neighborhoods were safe and fun and kids played outdoors and on Sundays, the family would get in the car and go for a ride.</p><p>We would head to Melody Park, Sylvan Lake, North Lake, Harveys Lake, Lake Silkworth, Rummages, or maybe to a relative&#8217;s house to just visit.</p><p>We would stop for a hot dog or hamburger or an ice cream along the way.</p><p>Back in the neighborhood, Joe Wende, a local farmer, would drive his flatbed truck around filled with fresh vegetables he grew on his farm by the Susquehanna River. My mom would choose the best looking produce on the truck and she would transform them into delicious meals every day.</p><p>I considered a fresh tomato sandwich a delicacy back then &#8212; those juicy red tomatoes between two slices of soft white bread, delicately painted with some mayonnaise, maybe a slice of raw onion added. Add some salt and pepper and a pickle on the side with a glass of whole milk. Like I said, a delicacy.</p><p>Mom would make a tomato-based red soup with vegetables and she would make homemade noodles. I can still taste that soup &#8212; it was the best. Sometimes she would add beef.</p><p>And then I start to think about her potato salad and macaroni salad and coleslaw &#8212; all homemade and oh so delicious.</p><p>And I think about her Missouri and her ham dinners and her roast beef and mashed potatoes and everything she would make. And the side dishes &#8212; those relish trays with radishes, pickles, olives, scallions.</p><p>Like I said, simpler times. Dinner every night at the table with dad. Sometimes we had company. Sometimes a buddy of mine would stay for dinner.</p><p>We would gather together in the living room to watch TV &#8212; we had three channels to choose from and we walked to the TV to change the channel. And it was black and white with rabbit ears. We enjoyed the same programs and we laughed together.</p><p>Simpler times, back then. Good food, family time, together.</p><p>Kids played outside and never got tired of it. We got called home for dinner and then went back out. Before bed, we took a bath. We read books &#8212; even comic books. We had dial telephones with party lines shared with neighbors. Our front doors were open. Car windows were left down and doors unlocked.</p><p>No worries. No cares.</p><p>We sat on the porch and we talked across the street to neighbors on their porches. We had fruit trees in our yards &#8212; cherry, plum, apple, peach. We shared.</p><p>We would wait for Mister Softie or Dairy Dan. We ran to Golden Quality. We walked to school &#8212; up hill both ways &#8212; in the snow. No buses. We listened to our teachers. We learned. We played Little League and we ate those delicious hot dogs that were boiled in water and covered with mustard. We cheered for each other.</p><p>We practiced basketball and ran to Mergo&#8217;s for a hot dog and Coke. We stopped at corner stores for penny candy and Tastykakes. We walked everywhere, or rode our bikes. We never complained.</p><p>On Sunday, we went to church. We came home for dinner, then we went visiting. Every aunt had a special treat. Our uncles would play tricks on us. Our cousins tolerated us. Before returning home, we would go for a quick ride just to enjoy the day a little longer.</p><p>Simpler times, for sure.</p><p>The only way we can return to those simpler times is through our memories. By remembering all that was so good, we can revisit those days and cherish them. We won&#8217;t ever see those days again.</p><p>Unless we are lucky to go to an event like the Farmers Market and recall how it was when people like Joe Wende drove his flatbed truck filled with fresh produce through the neighborhood.</p><p>Or we can take the time to go for a ride on a Sunday afternoon and not worry about what&#8217;s on TV, or what&#8217;s posted on Facebook.</p><p>Give me a fresh tomato sandwich with a slice of onion, a little mayo and a glass of cold milk any day.</p><p>And a ride to anywhere with the windows down and a breeze in the air.</p><p>Home. Family. Values. Neighbors. Open doors.</p><p>Memories are what we must never lose if we are to be eternally happy.</p><style>
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<div class="neCaption">Bill O&#8217;Boyle </div></div><div class="metaInfo"><photo0>https://www.timesleader.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/web1_Oboyle_Bill-2-1-6.jpg</photo0><caption0>Bill O&#8217;Boyle </caption0><photoCredit0></photoCredit0></div></div>
<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>By Bill O&#8217;Boyle</p><p>boboyle@www.timesleader.com</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Reach Bill O&#8217;Boyle at 570-991-6118 or on Twitter @TLBillOBoyle, or email at boboyle@www.timesleader.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Beyond the Byline: Fresh tomato sandwiches and long rides