Or is it just me? The "good old days" become much more meaningful as I try in vain to maintain some vestige of youth. I grew up in a small town in Northern New York State, very close to Canada. Winter was eight months of the year and spring, summer and fall shared the other four.

We spent summers riding our bicycles three miles out of town to the "beach," a strip of dirt along the Grasse River. It was heaven swimming out to the raft anchored in the middle of the river, and later buying a frozen Milky Way candy bar from the Snack Shack for a nickel. We really did have a JJ Newberry's Five and Dime store, and yes, items were really five and 10 cents. Pot was something we cooked in and grass was something we mowed. Winters meant ice skating after school in the rink built by the local Rotary Club. The American Theater charged 25 cents for a movie, 35 if it was a Disney. The Sugar Daddy we bought for a nickel from the Smoke Shop next door lasted throughout the whole film; I don't know if it was because the candy bar was bigger or the movies were shorter.

We lived in a house on Main Street across from the park where church groups would host ice cream socials. We traveled in packs, not gangs, and I still remember when we ran Peggy's underwear up the flag pole in the park. Winning a football game meant a victory march from the high school down to Main Street with cheerleaders, players and fans following behind.

I know it sounds like an Oscar Wilde play, but it may help explain my somewhat naive and moralistic approach to life. I'm disappointed every year when I have to give out hermetically-sealed candy which will probably be x-rayed anyway. Growing up, my "trick or treating" meant going to half the houses in town and filling my pillow case with homemade cookies and treats. The closest I came to x-rays is when I fell off my bike and broke my ankle.

Now here we are, caught up in a world of high technology, bare midriffs, fast living and even faster cars. I can still remember getting our first television set in 1955. I guess my Dad got tired of retrieving us from Tommy Dorris' house every evening after work. We would peer through the screen door with the flamingo on it, watching the Mickey Mouse show, singing along with Annette and all the Mouseketeers.

Yes, life was a lot simpler back then. I still have some small remembrances of my childhood, such as the crucifix that has hung on my bedroom wall for as long as I can remember. The problem is that after all these years and many moves, Jesus fell off the cross. Utilizing the wonders of modern technology, my husband siliconed the figure back on the cross. Having Jesus siliconed was just an aberration of my faith. Off I went to the hardware store, and you guessed it, asked the most helpful clerk if they had teeny-tiny nails so I could nail Jesus back on the cross. Well, he's back up with the nails and I have vowed never to return to that store because I'm sure they're still laughing over my plight.

When was the last time you raked a pile of autumn leaves and jumped in; crawled into sheets that were dried on the clothes line; or lay outside picking out faces and animals in cloud formations?

I'm suggesting we let it all hang out. Let's come out of the custom-designed, cedar-lined closet filled with designer clothes and unite! I believe that as we get older, we get more comfortable in our skin. We are much more amenable to letting our inner-child out and giving him/her permission to have one helluva good time.

Today's world is indeed more complicated than when we were young, but it doesn't mean that we have to be. The next time it rains, take off your shoes and squish mud through your toes, smell the proverbial roses and play "Marco Polo" in the pool. After all, you're not getting any younger.


Ann still runs with scissors. Email her at ann@azfinsurance.com.