May 2006                                                                 The Megaphone                                                                   Page 4

A Foggy Day Remembered

by Julie (Stout) Crim

  Anyone growing up in Elwood may have experienced many fogs, but the time I’m going to tell you about was different, very different.

  London, England, is known for its beautiful parks. In fact, during the time I lived there, it was said London had more green space than any other large city in the world. My part of London had one such neighborhood park and by American standards it was a very large area for a city park. The shape was sort of round and four or five blocks across in distance. Mostly there was just grass with a shade tree here and there and a nice park bench under its branches. It was not uncommon to see someone sitting on a bench in the mornings or afternoons with a book or two. 

  I lived in the London borough of Hillingdon at 17 Sweetcroft Lane. Walking down my street one would notice a private lane between every two houses. In back of the houses that were facing the street were properties twice the size as the ones in front. These lots were one acre in size, well maintained and very old. The large homes were old brick with several chimneys in each. I was lucky enough to live in one that was 400 years old. At the bottom (back) of the garden (yard) was a very old wooden gate with a key. Every house on the park had a similar gate that was always kept locked. The gate opened right onto the common park. I remember the view from a couple of the upstairs bedrooms. One could look out onto the park and see a great distance. I can not do the beauty of that place justice with words. It was a glorious site, a feast for the eyes.

   In one area of the park a beautiful rose garden, with abundant color and lush blooms, in another, a play area for children and of course in another area the time worn old sport of bowls and a grassy bowling green. It always brought back memories of Rip Van Winkle. A popular place with young mothers and nannies with babies in prams was the playground. Sitting and visiting while their older charges played ... before teatime, summer and winter I became acquainted with some of them. In fact I often took my two younger children there. The play area was so far from our home that I couldn’t see them play so always went with them.

  When I could get away after teatime (supper) and after the dishes were done I enjoyed walking in the park right before dusk. Sometimes one of my children would join me for some good one on one time and sometimes I went alone. I loved the solitude and peace of a walk in this park. On this particular late summer afternoon, after teatime, I walked alone. It was a wonderful time for thinking, planning and a time for self revitalization. I'd planned to walk straight across the park and then around the street side on the sidewalk, past neighborhood homes until I was back home again, just as I’d done so many times in the years I lived there. I suppose I hadn't been paying much attention to where I was going or anything else for that matter, for when I looked up ... all was different, very different!

   First there was a feeling of disorganization, incomprehensible, confusion and loss. Where was I? Where had I gone? Nothing was familiar! At dusk, when shadows and color begin to fade and an eerie light, soft as midnight begins to fall, it can be a lonely time.

   But first things first. What was happening? I stopped and took notice of my surroundings. I was still in the park, I thought. Only then did I notice the mist (fog) that was circling around my feet and legs ... eventually coming up as high as my knees. The constant movement of the mist, as far as the eye could see, gave one a feeling of disconnection. I stood still and looked for my house. I had to concentrate to keep from falling over. My equilibrium was affected in the worst way. I knew the house could be seen from most places in the park but I couldn’t see it. Had I lost my since of direction? I could not see across the park in the direction I thought was right. I became nauseous from the motion of the mist. The silence was deafening. There were no traffic sounds, no voices, no bird sounds, no dogs barking, nothing but total silence. There was not even a small breeze, just dead air. Everything I knew had vanished in a second, or so it seemed. 

   I decided to head out across the park in the direction I thought my house was and if I didn't find it I would walk around the edge of the park until I came to it. I looked for a landmark, a tree and walked towards it. It was only a guess. The swirling mist was so thick I couldn't see the ground, not even my feet. My equilibrium was so affected that every minute or so I would need to stop and start again, re-adjusting my direction and keeping my eyes on the tree or another landmark. Eventually, and after many stops and starts I saw the shape of what I thought was my home and with great effort and relief did get there. 

   I was soaked through, as though I’d been swimming in a lake. Dripping, I opened the door and shouted "I'm home." I didn't want anyone worrying about me. Safe at home and in dry clothes I joined my family who were in the living room watching TV. "I'm home," I repeated. No one knew there was a strange mist outside and no one was interested. Oh well, just another day in foggy London town.

Julie (Stout) Crim '57
Yuma, Arizona