Sharing A Street Called Memory Lane (Repost)


When I put up the post “Setting The Record Straight”, it reminded me of a post I wrote last year of some memories I had as a child. I hope you don’t mind me sharing it with you again.

Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane with NEO on his post titled In the Rear View Mirror (Redux). He was born and lived in the same region of Indiana as me so you might get an idea how the trip down memory lane got started, Smile.  I would like to share some of my street called memory lane with you. 

To me I had a very normal childhood with the usual ups and downs. I remember a couple trips to bar with my cousin as a kid. The owner of the bar would give my cousin and me empty liquor bottles so we could burn candles on them. My cousin and me thought it was something watching the wax from the candle run down the nice shaped liquor bottles. 

My great Uncle Bob use to send one of us kids to the bar to get cigarettes from the vending machine there. I know some are probably shock about this but it was allowed back then. We could even go in the store and get cigarettes for a relative. No one thought anything about it unless a kid got caught smoking. The kid got a butt hurting if caught smoking. At least that what what I was told back then by one kid.

Next to the bar was a great restaurant. I remember it by the name of Max’s. Max made the best tenderloin sandwich. It was a sandwich that melted in your mouth in my opinion. To this day I still think no other tenderloin sandwich compared to his, Open-mouthed smile.

When I was around 5 or 6 years old I got hit by a car. I won’t go into detail but you can read about it here.

In my hometown we have a college, Purdue University. They could do no wrong according to my daddy’s side of the family during game season.

During baseball, football, and basketball season, you didn’t want to be around my daddy’s side of the family. There was yelling, screaming, and cussing during those game seasons. I have to say it was cut throat like their euchre game.

I am going to end this with a memory of a dog my parents watched for a while. The dog was a German shepherd called Butch. Butch was not the friendliest dog in town. Mom and dad chained him to the outhouse while they kept him. Needless to say while Butch was with us going to the potty was a chore. Our house didn’t have a inside bathroom.

Thank you for letting me share some of my street called memory lane.

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