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In land-locked Middle America, going to “the beach” meant a trip to our town’s swimming pool—Rainbow Beach.

This is about my childhood ticket to freedom: my bike, serving multiple purposes in my life.

Those were the days, back in that river basin climate of southern Indiana, when one of the neighborhood moms dragged out her sprinkler. Word spread and we ran home to get on our swimsuits and be ready to cool off.

Remember our childhood playgrounds? I thought them the closest thing to heaven on earth.

As you can tell from past columns, I had an idyllic childhood, filled with fun, friends and little work. But I always wished for one of...

One activity that kept us busy for hours was making clover chains.  My pal Susie and I were clover chain experts. 

Remember those summer evenings after we bolted down supper to get back to our work:  playing?