Today I am remembering back to "Circle Pines" days.  Circle Pines was a new suburb district North of Saint Paul, Minnesota in the 50's.  It was on what is now called Old Highway 8. Then I suppose it was NEW Highway 8, but that is just a supposition.  It was a quaint village, which had a road running along side the highway with housing on the inside of the road. from that road (Eastern..I believe), others began and ended on on it, creating a half circle style village.  We lived on the inner most road that was, surprisingly called, Inner Drive.  Our house number was 13!  Nothing bad or unusual happened, for those of you who are superstitious folks.  Our driveway was a gravel driveway that went from the street up a hill to beyond the house.  Later on, Dad build a garage but the drive remained gravel. I say this because it was my fate as the oldest son to pull the weeds during the summer months and shovel the snow during the winter months. In Minnesota with the summer heat and winter cold, there was a lot of weeds and snow, which kept me busy.  Because of my experience with gravel drives, in my later (away from home) days, I never had gravel driveways.  Look at my face book page...it has a picture of my present home.  A concrete drive that can hold two rows of three cars and NO weeds!

Dad loved wood and once we got settled, he build a basket weave redwood fence in the back yard. Once it was stained and sealed it looked beautiful.  Then Dad put down sod and the watering began. It didn't take long for the dandilions to pop up so now I got to weed the lawn as well.  As much work as it was, I enjoyed the grass, as the rest of the housing project was mostly blowing sand.  The fence kept out most of the sand and it was our little oasis.  With Dad's love of wood, he put in a knotty cedar, tongue and groove, accent wall in the living room.  It was a two bedroom home, living room, kitchen and a bathroom on the first floor.  We had a stairway to the attic at the front door (which no one used) but we never used the attic for a living space.  The basement was where Mom had her laundry room and during the watermellon season . . . watermellon pickleing area. Dad loved watermellon pickles. Dad had a modest tool area in the corner as well.  In Mom's laundry room/area was a wringer washing machine. The reason I mention that is: On FaceBook today someone posted a picture of one, asking if anyone knew what it was!  Ours was white enamel paint and worked very nicely for the time period we were in.  Sure beat taking the clothes to the lake and beating them with rocks to get them clean! 

How wonderful invention is.  Look at how easy we have things now, because someone took the time and effort to improve on things already built, and even come up with fresh and never before thought of ideas to build that improve our lives.  America was the world leader in inventions for many years.  We could still be if it wasn't for all the restrictions government has put on our society.  Wouldn't it be wonderful to have less intrusiveness put on our lives to allow our creative spirit flow to improve ours and the worlds lives once again?    For instance:  I live in a small town called Rutherford.  When we moved in, I decided I needed a storage shed built.  I hired a craftsman to build it because I did not inherit Dad's talents.  I wanted it built on a concrete pad instead of pylons as was custom for sheds in my area.  Snakes and other critters live under sheds built on pylons.  We don't like being a hotel for critters and snakes.  So the concrete truck arrived on a bright sunny morning and was about half way through pouring the 12x28foot pad when my telephone rang.  On the other end was the town clerk.  She informed me that I needed a permit to pour concrete on my property. That would be fine in most instances but in Rutherford, there are no building inspectors to inspect the project!  Other that creating income for the town, there was no other reason to have a permit drawn, that I could see.  I later learned that the county tax folks used that permit to come visit my home and increase my taxes!   What a wonderful (sarcastic tone) system we have.  But being a small town, I learned that there is NOTHING to prevent everyone from knowing what you are doing. Although that is a pain sometimes, it is also a blessing.  Example:  Our first rain storm had me at our front door with a push broom fighting the water pouring into our yard and to the front door.  Found out later the house was built a foot and a half too low on the lot!  Since then I have corrected the problem with some creative culvert/catch basin/swill building to re-direct the waterflow.  But since we hadn't had a phone installed at the new house yet, my daughter called the town police chief and he came out to check on our well being.  THAT I thought was a wonderful act of kindness.  So small town living has its good points as well as a few agrivating issues to deal with.  However many we have, America is still the best place to live, as I see it.  We just need to re-adjust a few government issues and we will be fine.  May God Bless America!

Point of the story:  We all have our memories of our childhoods. Mine are wonderful...others maybe not so good.  It is what we do to overcome the bad parts, and make the best of what we were given to work with.  I have been blessed with a great Mom and Dad, Sister and Brothers.  Then there are the cousins and beyond that were an influence on my life as well.  What a blessing I know I have.  I can only pray that yours is/was as good.  God is in all our lives, all the time.  HE never goes away.  That is a reassurance that we all need, especially in the bad times.  You can depend on that information...use it.

Keep singing, keep praying, keep smiling,

Blessings,
Gary