Here Chick, Chick, Chick

Easter has just passed. I began thinking about what a wonderful life I have lived.

I grew up in a time of plenty in the United States. The Cold War was something they talked about on the news but was far removed from me. After World War II and the Korean War the worl was pretty much at peace.

Where I lived, at least, everyone was friendly and helpful to neighbors. Children could run and play anywhere in town without having to worry about violence.

Adults who were near to where we played watched out for us. If we were hurt it was taken care of and we were sent home. If we fought the adults put a stop to it immediately.

Children knew to respect others both young and old. We knew to respect property and belongings.

Our days were carefree. Of course we had chores to do. But once they were done we had the rest of the day to explore and play whatever came to us at the time.

Easter came at the beginning of warm weather. Warm weather meant fewer clothes and more ease of motion. Baseball games were a favorite thing to do. We played cowboys and Indians (which is politically incorrect now) or pirates hunting for treasure. Sometimes we were explorers looking for new land or hunters on the prowl for wild animals.

Speaking of animals our animals began having babies. It meant more responsibilities for my brothers because they had to feed them and clean up after them. We all got to hug them and pet them. Those soft fluffy little pets.

The feed store was one block from our house. It was right next to the jail and fire house.

Every year just before Easter the feed store gave away free chicks to each child who came in. It was a promotion to get the farmers in to buy their seeds and fertilizer instead of going to a bigger town nearby.

We went every year to pick up our ten little baby chickens. We carefully took them home to feed and raise. They were pets then.

When the chicks got a little bigger and could take care of themselves a bit better they went into the pen with the other chickens. Of course they later became somebody's dinner but it did not matter too much. Ten new chicks (who were so much cuter) would be ours next year.

My children have teased me for years because they feel I am naive and too trusting. To an extent they are right. I was raised that way. Children did not have the fears children do now.

Those baby chicks are a symbol to me. They represent those carefree days we spent when I was a young child.