There was a game that we played growing up.
Living in a neighborhood with sidewalks, two could easily play, side by side.
Walking to and from school each day may this game a possibility.
It always left you in a sea of giggles.

We would start side by side and walk in step with each other.
We would decide which foot to start off with and then begin walking.
It was very hard to do because of the variation in our heights.
I had long legs, so my one step was really two steps for a shorter person.

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We were reminiscing about computers.
There was a line that was crossed between having a computer and not having one.
There was a time when world wide web could have very well been associated with spiders.
There was a before and after.

We cannot imagine our lives without computers now.
That was not always the case.
Before word documents, there were handwritten papers and letters.
Before Google, there were encyclopedias.

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One of our favorite books, as my children were growing up, was The Giving Tree.
Shel Silverstein wrote this simple book that has become a classic.
It has been translated into many languages.
Many continue to debate what the book really means.

The sweetness of this book can be taken at face value.
The tree provides everything the boy needs throughout his entire life.
Even when there was seemingly nothing left to give, the tree still gave.
The story is an allegory, a parable, a children’s book, a book for everyone.

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Before the days of ATM machines and debit cards, people went to the bank.
You knew the bank tellers and they knew you.
If you were a regular customer, cashing a check was relatively easy.

Friday afternoons were especially busy in the bank since many people were paid that day.
Before the days of direct deposit, people stood in line to get their check cashed.
Some money was deposited into your savings account; the rest was given to you in cash.

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It was the perfect place to play.
At the end of our street, a massive tree trunk lay across the road.
It did not fall there on its own; it was purposefully placed there.
The builder wanted to close off the road to traffic.

Our street would eventually connect to another neighborhood.
That neighborhood was in the final phases of building.
Until it was completed, the tree trunk remained.
For us mothers it was perfect, a cul-de-sac on one end, a tree trunk on the other.

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When my youngest daughter was in kindergarten she came home with many stories.
Stories about whom she played with, pictures she drew, and what they had for a snack.
I heard about the toy kitchen and what wonderful recipe was concocted that day.
I listened to stories about friends.

Whether you were morning or afternoon kindergarten, there were no buses at lunchtime.
You were picked up at 11:30 or brought to school at 12:30.
There was an orderly line in front of the school as you dropped your child right at the door.

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Driving on the roads this winter is like being inside an arcade game.
Dodge a pothole here.
Point!
Dodge a pothole there.
Score!

I feel as if I’m driving on an obstacle course.
I must be ready at a moment’s notice to swerve.
It seems as if the potholes are multiplying each day.
There is always a new one next to the one you already knew about.

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We have a little car that is used by the newest driver.
It is the car that gets driven locally, back and forth to high school.
It is economical, practical, and a favorite of whoever drives it.

This past weekend we got a recall notice for that car.

We have an appointment with the dealer so that they can repair the problem.
It is disconcerting to realize that we were driving around with a potential problem.
A potential problem that could cause serious injury.
And we never knew.

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I saw a video for an ad campaign.
It was an anti-smoking ad campaign.
It was extremely clever and so very powerful.

The video showed adults smoking in various places and situations.
A young boy and a young girl walked up to the people individually.
The boy and girl had a cigarette in their hand.

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My son and I went out to exchange a pair of shoes.
I am always amazed at the elaborate methods the stores put in place for returns.
Metal poles make an organized queue and remind me of museum ropes.

People have interesting reasons for their returns.
Size, style, or simply not liking the item.
Some bring their item back in the original bag, others use whatever is handy.

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