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We were the lucky ones, those of us born in the mid-thirties. It was among the best of times.

Peace reigned in our section of the world; no screeching bombs, no burning buildings, and no images of war in our minds. Our lives were safe and secure, and most of us never knew real hunger nor neglect as children. Our nation was regaining strength after being brought to her knees by the Great Depression a few years earlier.

We were blissfully unaware of happenings in other parts of the world that would later change our outlook on life and mankind.

Our dads brought home the bacon and mother was there to cook it.

Grandparents often lived in the same household as their children where they could be assured of comfort and care, surrounded by loved ones in their final years. There was no generation gap between the grandparent and the grandchild, as they shared experiences and learned from each other.

Neighbors helped neighbors, doors were never locked, and children showed proper respect for their elders.

We listened to radio programs like Amos n' Andy, The Lone Ranger, and Fibber McGee and Molly.

We could sing along to Over the Rainbow, Little Sir Echo, and we listened to the Andrew Sisters sing Bei Mir Bist Du Schon although we never could quite grasp those lyrics.

We played hide and seek and red rover, went swimming with our families in the local river or lake, and had picnics in the park. We were happy and content, as children should be.

As we grew, we learned that evil existed and was spreading its ugly tentacles throughout Europe. We heard our parents speak in hushed tones of armies and wars, but we were still untouched by those events. So, we went on with our lives happily singing silly songs like Three Little Fishes and listening to Little Orphan Annie and The Green Hornet.

The change came in December of 1941. We watched a stunned nation as it wept, but the weeping was not long lasting. Our people rallied and answered the call. Although we did not understand it, we watched quietly as fathers, brothers, uncles, and cousins marched off to a war from which many would never return.

Mothers, sisters, aunts, and grandparents guarded the home front and went to work in defense plants, doing all they could for the war effort. We received ration books for shoes, tires, gasoline, coffee, and sugar.

Puzzled as we were in our once-pure world we still felt safe. Caring for the children became a combined effort of all around us, and those who had space planted victory gardens. Everyone

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