A Childhood and a Small Town

I thought that for the month of November I would blog about everything that I am thankful for. 30 things in 30 days, but not in 30 blog posts. I will be lumping a few things together so I only have to write here two or three times a week. As the month goes on, I am not going to be able to recap all those things, so you are going to have to take my word for it that today I am thankful for thing number 4 and thing number 5. (Sounds like Dr. Suess.)

Looking back on my childhood I would have to say that I had no complaints (at the time I think I complained a lot, but looking back it was pretty idyllic). I had the perfect childhood – parents who were there when I needed them but not there all the time, a sister who was my best friend and partner in crime (click here for one such memory), a house in the country with acres of woods as a blank canvass for our adventures. I can’t imagine having been raised any differently. I’m thankful that I had such a good childhood.

In a similar vein, I am also thankful that I was born, raised and still live in a small Midwestern town. Sure, they say that when you live in a small town, if you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else will. Maybe that means we are all nosy, but it also means that most of us care. We left our doors unlocked, we talked to strangers on the party line (do any of you young kids know what that was? our version of social media), we trick-or-treated after dark!

And that is why I am thankful that I still live in a small town. 

Especially a small town that is ready for snow. 

The other day at work we started talking about the Beatles (a long story), and I came home and looked up some of their songs on YouTube. What can I say? This is dedicated to those we have lost. Those we are thankful to have had the pleasure of knowing.