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  • Getting on board, Angie and Alex.

    I remember climbing onto the roof of the chicken coop and being able to see the town 12 miles away across the flat desert valley.

    I remember the lovely walk under the pine trees along the sidewalk on the way to school when I was in first grade. For some reason it always made me think of the Holy Land; I have absolutely no explanation for that.

    I remember writing scripts for our class assemblies in high school but hating to be on stage.

    I remember when several parents dressed up and crashed the Halloween Dance when I was 13. All the teenagers thought it was funny so I didn't feel embarrassed that my mother was one of them.

    I remember the way the irrigation water sounded as it ran through the open ditches of the town where my grandparents lived. When the ditch was dry, we crawled through the culvert that ran under the road, our knees protected by the sand that collected in the corrugated metal.

    I remember wonderful excursions to the nearby national parks when my mother loaded the car with my friends and acted as Mother Scoutmaster. On one trip we hiked from one rim of the canyon to the other with carrots in our ears because of some stupid joke one of the boys told while we were driving.

    I remember the wonderful aroma of warm sagebrush after it has been dampened by a brief summer shower.

    I remember bubble lights on the Christmas tree that you had to flip with your finger to get the bubbles rising. My favorite task was hanging the long foil icicles on the branches .

    Ooops. There's my 10 minutes. Hmmm. Interesting exercise; not sure what I think of the results.
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