Fran, when I was growing up you had to look where you were stepping. After I came back from WW2 the politicos said that within thirty years there would be houses extending from downtown Chicago to my chicken coop. I said, manure, not in my time! As usual the politicians were wrong. It took all of fifteen years. Today I have to drive almost all the way to Wisconsin to see what makes milk and observe the business end of a pig. Reminds me! It was in Ruthies barnyard looking over the fence of the pig pen that I ventured to plant my first kiss on her big red juicy lips. Never got out of the habit. And now? Now Ruthie and me live in what is called greater Chicago land. Everything is different except the plot of land we live on and the house. Yes, everything has changed, even the smell.

Grandpa Doug