Bless Your . . .

I grew up in a small Texas town.  Everyone knew everyone else and most likely all their business.  My sister and I went to the same high school as our father, aunts, uncle and their uncle.  My great grandmother was one of the first residents of our small town and lived over by the rail road tracks.  By all accounts our small town was semi rural.

My sister, Julie, and I would ride our bikes, play game outside way after dark and never feared a stranger - after all we knew just about everyone.  Church was every Sunday morning and Wednesday night.  Sleep overs happened quickly and often. We would often come home and find friends playing on the trampoline or basketball in the back yard.  It was a close knit community.

We grew up in a time where you used yes mam's, and no sirs.  Where every adult was called by their last name and where children had chores and helped around the house.  I think fondly of those Sunday afternoons when we would race out of church to go have lunch at my grandparents.  The whole family together for probably one of three Sunday special meals - fried chicken, pot roast or spaghetti!