eagle2250

Connoisseur/Curmudgeon Emeritus - Moderator
Let's see now....the young man with his head on the pillow is thinking deep thoughts about great adventures yet to be experienced, while his best friend rests his concerned head on the gentleman;s blanket and his most prized possessions; a baseball, his YO-yo, his Colonel Littleton Possibles bag and not surprisingly, a few loose marbles rest on the window sill above his head. Life is good...contemplative, but good! ;)
 

127.72 MHz

Advanced Member
Let's see now....the young man with his head on the pillow is thinking deep thoughts about great adventures yet to be experienced, while his best friend rests his concerned head on the gentleman;s blanket and his most prized possessions; a baseball, his YO-yo, his Colonel Littleton Possibles bag and not surprisingly, a few loose marbles rest on the window sill above his head. Life is good...contemplative, but good! ;)
A beautiful image that says so much.

The computer age has opened up a world of information unimagined by previous generations.

But as the sun rose on computers and the internet it also set on something meaningful that can never be regained.

I'm about to turn 59 and I can say without a doubt that if I had to put my finger on one thing about growing up that I am most grateful for, it would be having no computers in my life.
 

Peak and Pine

Connoisseur
Maybe the most photographed lighthouse in all of America...

726a7fdb5973afc76f64a648501aefcf.jpg


Comissioned by George Washington. My 4th grade teacher's husband was the keeper and one spring day Mrs. Burns took nine-year old me and the other dozen kids in my class up into the ever-winding iron staircase to the tippy-top of that thing. Not for the squeamish, of which I was. And may be still.
 

eagle2250

Connoisseur/Curmudgeon Emeritus - Moderator
Maybe the most photographed lighthouse in all of America...

View attachment 43741

Comissioned by George Washington. My 4th grade teacher's husband was the keeper and one spring day Mrs. Burns took nine-year old me and the other dozen kids in my class up into the ever-winding iron staircase to the tippy-top of that thing. Not for the squeamish, of which I was. And may be still.
Reading your post above, I suspect your 4th grade teacher, Mrs Burns, would have been one of my heros...the type from whom we could learn so much! ;)
 
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