Today I took the children on a brief stroll down memory lane, giving them a glimpse of mom’s girlhood.  Would you like to come along?  Great!

We’re taking a little tour of Paris, Kentucky.  My father’s hometown, my husband’s hometown, and the town where I graduated from high school.   Here’s the picture that sums up Bourbon county…

Green pasture, black barns and fences and the very finest thoroughbreds. That’s why they call it the horse capital of the world:

This weekend the entire town will turn out to remember Triple Crown winner Secretariat. My mother has a picture of my brother and I sitting astride this legendary giant. I even have a few strands of his mane…

Let’s go to school. Here’s my high school. Paris High, home of the Greyhounds.

At this small independent school I received a top notch education, academically speaking. Three years of Latin, two years of French, and had the same homeroom teacher and English instructor that my father had. Mrs. Kenney Roseberry. God bless her…the finest teacher I ever knew.

See those Greek columns? I used to eat lunch there. We’d pick up a milkshake at Homer’s Tastee Freeze and congregate there in the shade. The building to the right is the Fine Arts center. Band class, the cafeteria and auditorium were located inside. I played the flute in that band for four years…I hated marching, but loved symphonic band.

Here’s the football field…Oh, how I loved that place! Crisp, cool evenings and the excitement of high school football. I was a cheerleader (briefly) and quickly discovered I enjoyed the part of spectator far more.

Did I mention that I actually prefer basketball? Here’s the gym…located directly across the street from my house. Extremely convenient for a dedicated fan!

The gym:

My old house:

Just down the street was my favorite haunt…pun intended! Welcome to the Paris Cemetery.

I have a rather interesting scar in a rather, ahem, interesting place thanks to the spikes on the gate. That’s what you get when you climb the gate after hours…a great big hole in the seat of your favorite Levi’s and a nasty reminder!

The cemetery has always been a place of great comfort for me. Most of my family and quite a few of my dearest friends are buried here. This particular grave is a rather poignant reminder from my girlhood:

At the age of sixteen, a beautiful blond haired, blue eyed boy was electrocuted in an athletic whirlpool bath.  His name was Ronnie Massie, may he rest in peace.  He had heroically saved the life of his best friend who was in the whirlpool with him, and lost his own in the process. He was my boyfriend.   A good, decent and honorable young man in every way. As saintly as teenagers come. Greater love than this no man has, than to lay down his life for his friends…

Another fallen hero lies here:

My father-in-law. A true gentleman. One of the finest men I’ve ever known. His death, sudden yet peaceful, has left a void in the lives of his children and grandchildren. Here are six who never had the privilege of meeting him, but can be sure he’s been following their progress:

And, finally…fun and games a Garrard Park:

I used to play tennis and flag football at this park.  I remember the tank…it was green.  The old tank provided quite a bit of amusement for the children.

It’s funny…how different things are and yet, still very much the same. Memories linger, the past creeps upon the heels of the present and the next generation relives those “days of yore…”

Thanks for walking down memory lane with me. I hope it wasn’t too tedious. I truly enjoyed it, but as much as the past calls to mind fond memories, I would rather live one moment of my present life, than relive all the years gone by…