Last updated: May 23. 2014 3:48PM - 657 Views
By Rose Nolen Contributing Columnist



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Sometimes you wonder how families begin in one place and get separated over the years. My family began in Missouri and today most of them live in Minnesota.


Actually, I’ll always think of Missouri as my home. Although I no longer live in the city where I was born, I’m close enough to it that I can still take a look now and then. I grew up with so much Missouri history in my mind, I doubt I could ever stray far from it.


There are certain things that took up a residence in my mind that I still think of from time to time. For example, my father and grandfather built the house where I grew up. I will always remember the well there. It was lined with bricks and my father printed his name on one of the bricks inside it. I’ll always remember that brick, even though it’s been many years since I’ve seen it.


I’ll always remember the pear trees in our yard. I remember holding the yardstick when my father measured the distance where he planted them. I remember the first year I watched them grow. I remember the walnut dresser that always stood in my bedroom. I passed it to my son several years ago. It’s in his home today.


As Memorial Day comes near, I always think of those things. My parents are buried together in the cemetery in the town where I was born. They are buried with our twin baby sisters.


I have friends whose families live many miles from them and I always wonder about their memories. I can drive by and see an old truck like the one my father drove for years and I can remember it and it brings back memories. I can walk past a partly built house like my grandfather used to build and imagine him standing there looking at his work. These kind of things bring back the days of my youth, when I watched my grandfather and my father at their daily work.


Living in small-town Missouri, there are so many things that haven’t changed in by-gone years. I can still run into houses like my grandfather built. I can still imagine the fruit trees growing over the fences in back yards.


Sometimes, it’s good to look back. And sometimes it’s good to remember where we are. In any case, it’s a good life.


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