I have always liked fountains – the flow of the water, the gentle splashing sound, the tiny atoms of water dancing in the sunlight.  Although it seemed a little unnecessary to anyone but me, I decided I would like to have a fountain on the back deck of our patio which overlooks a lake. 

My maternal grandfather, who died at eighty, gently resisted all attempts to move him out of his home as he aged.  He always said he wanted children coming to his door on Halloween, that he enjoyed talking to his younger neighbors about their jobs, and that the sound of the school bus reminded him daily of the importance of education. 

Does anyone remember trading cards? I think they were perhaps the female version of baseball cards, and were my passion in third and fourth grade. The initial investment was buying a pack of the cards, the size and shape of playing cards.

I am valiantly trying to keep up with the modern technical world, but I find that I am not as successful as I would wish.  And when I am feeling particularly proficient, that is when disaster usually hits. 

I recently returned from a trip to a retirement village in Florida.  In case you think that was for my 80-year-old self, it was not.  It was a visit to my oldest daughter who is considering moving there.  I am now old enough not only to have retired, but to have a daughter who is old enough to begin thinking about that stage of life. 

Among the many things that have changed since my youth, amazingly one of them is signs.  This occurred to me when I parked in front of the dentist office the other day and noted that in addition to the ubiquitous no soliciting sign was another that stated ‘no firearms.’ 

I am confused with today’s prices.  And can you blame me? While I may have had a grocery budget of $10.00 a week when I was first married almost sixty years ago, my first home which was bought in 1970 had an interest rate of 81/2 %.

In the era before things were invented that can live on your wrist and run your entire life, there were just plain watches that simply kept the time. I always had one, but my goal was to get the least expensive one I could find.

As we grow older, we all have versions of events that we hold on to no matter what the evidence might be.  Our view of certain occurrences in the past are such a part of who we think we are, that we often are loathe to part with them.   

It was a summer over fifty years ago.  I and my brand new Marine second lieutenant husband were traveling from west coast to east on the way to his new duty station on the southern coast.  It was all a new adventure, heading into what we knew not. 

One of the small irritations of retired life has been renewing my military ID card. Of course, I cannot do this by myself as I am but an appendage of my husband. So, every five years I must drag him to an office so that he can sign a piece of paper saying I am still his wife and eligible.

I recently heard someone say that now they were older, they were no longer one of life’s participants, but a spectator instead.  I have given this a great deal of thought, and I cannot say that I totally agree. 

One of pleasures of living a considerable span of years, is the sudden remembrance of long lost memories. A smell, an item on a shelf, an overheard comment --- any one of these things can bring a long-forgotten moment rushing back.

I do not know when I first became conscious of tipping, but the whole issue was brought suddenly to my attention in 1955 at a lunch at the King’s Arms Inn in Williamsburg when I was eleven. In order to give my grandmother a day off, we had gone there for a Thanksgiving lunch.

The year was 1968. My husband was in Vietnam during that tumultuous year, and I flew across country with our 18-month-old daughter to spend Christmas with my family. Apollo 8 had taken off on December 21, the first manned spacecraft to leave earth’s gravity and orbit the moon.

Some of the most golden memories of our youth can become somewhat tarnished when examined many years later.  One of the joys of my youth had been being read to by the adults in my life.  I was introduced to The Wind in the Willows, Sherlock Holmes adventures, Ben Hur, A.A. Milne, a biography of Mary, Queen of  Scots, and much, much more. 

For me, one of the joys of the season is attending a concert of Handel’s Messiah.  The music combined with the words from the King James Version of the Bible lift one’s spirits and bring joy to the heart. 

Recently I stood in line behind a young woman who had on faded jeans with rips in the knees and the rear.  The rips were so revealing that I knew what kind of underwear she was wearing.

My grandmother grew up in a very wealthy Chicago family.  Her grandfather was one of the steel magnates of the late 1800s and early 1900s. wealthier and more productive than Andrew Carnegie at the height of his career.  She was introduced in her youth to cultural events like the opera, the theater, and ballet.

Was there really ever such a time?  I hear great deal from my age group of how great things use to be.  Yes, I will agree I do say that myself sometimes.  I miss having gas pumped for me by a gas station attendant, and I miss talking over the dinner table instead competing with phones. But there are many things that I do not miss.