I have so many memories of my childhood on the farm.  Of course remembering is a game old men play to attempt to revitalize themselves.
Some of the fondest and most vivid memories I have are of our family working, eating and playing together.  We never had the myriad of "toys" that children of today have, but we had an imagination.  We used that imagination to create all kinds of things to play with.

There was the old broom handle that became a trusted horse to ride over the yard.  Our dogs became our cattle and even let us rope them. We took empty thread spools and with the aid of a rubber band, soap, and smooth sticks, we made our very own motor powered tanks and cars. The boys carved out guns, planes, cars, etc. while the girls made dolls out of corn shucks and cotton.
We did not have much according to today's standards, but we were so rich in ways people of today will never be able to understand.

When Mother called us to a meal, there was no hesitation.  We all were eager to get to the table to eat and have a conversation with each other.  There was plenty to talk about even though we saw each other all day long.  After thanks was said, we all ate and then we spent at least thirty minutes to an hour after each meal just talking and listening to the others.

My Grand-dad and Grand-mother lived with us, and I was always fascinated to listen to him tell about his times as a sheriff in Texas during the wild cowboy days.

I was privileged to go back to the old home place about two years ago.  The house and barn was gone.  Where the out buildings used to be there was plowed fields.  As I stood there looking, I was overwhelmed with memories.  I could still hear the happy voices that used to occupy this space of earth.  I heard again the dinner call and saw the rush of each one as we went into the kitchen.  It was both a sad and a happy time for me.

I saw Grand-pa sitting on the front porch, in his favorite rocking chair, holding his walking cane in front of him and telling a story of his youth.  Sitting in other chairs around him was my dad, mom and Grand-mother.  On the stoop and the edge of the porch were the five kids.  Everyone was intent on catching every word he spoke.

We did not need a television, a computer or even a radio.  We had the very best entertainment the world could offer.

I could go on and on about the memories of my youth, but there is not room enough in this newsletter to contain it all.  If this section continues, maybe I will be able to contribute other memories.

Thank you again for this opportunity.
Byron