Pot of Gold at Rainbow's End

It rained late this afternoon. It was like a summer rain. It came hard, lasted not even half an hour, and stopped. The sun came out bright behind the clouds. I opened the back door and went onto the back steps of the mobile home, with the cat, to see if we could see a rainbow.

It reminded me of a time when my little sister, little brother, and I, went wandering out of our neighborhood, searching for the pot of gold at the rainbow's end.

This was in the 1940s when life was much safer and much more innocent. We were allowed to go by ourselves onto any smaller neighborhood street. If the street had a stoplight, then it was a "big" street and we were not allowed to cross alone. But in Philly, that left a few miles of small residential streets in the northeast section of the city. If my baby brother, four years younger than me, was with us, then he was perhaps in kindergarten. I suspect I was about 9, my sis about 8, and my brother about 5.

It had rained, and the rainbow was especially bright and beautiful, and beckoning. We began walking. And walking. And walking. Soon, it was turning dusk and the rainbow has disappeared. We began to worry. We were on streets that were not familiar to us. We stopped to ask someone on a driveway how to get back home. In those days, every child of speaking age knew their name, their address, and their telephone number. He pointed us in the right direction. We got home safely. We were punished and rightly so. But we were not punished too severely.

When we were asked why we even considered such a silly journey, we answered that we were trying to find the pot of gold so that daddy wouldn't have to work so hard and so that mommy wouldn't have to take in ironing and sewing, and so that we would not be poor any more.

A silly tale, I guess, in today's world. Today's 9 year old probably would not believe in the pot of gold at rainbow's end.

Mom hugged us, I'm sure, because it was her way. And I'm equally sure she suggested that we pray that night instead of trying to find that elusive pot of gold.

Father, thank you for a Mom and Dad who saw to it that we had a faith to cling to, and who taught us that not being rich was not the end of the world.