**Contributed** by: Author Unknown
One of my bygone recollections,
As I recall the days of yore
Is the little house, behind the house,
With the crescent over the door.
'Twas a place to sit and ponder
With your head bowed down low;
Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
If you didn't have to go.
From Polly Mazariegos
Gettysburg PA.
I don’t know what category my stories would fit in. They are true things that have happened to me. They are not in any specific order.
Every time I visit my sister (Shirley) her grandchildren ask me to tell my ghost stories. I had planned to record them, but never got around to it. So I decided to record them with US Legacies. Then they can see them and read them any time they want.
Today's inspirations:
August 20, 2002
Author Unknown
You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your
arms too full to embrace the present.
-unknown-
Appreciation is like looking through a wide-angle lens that lets you
see the entire forest, not just the one tree limb you walked up on.
- HeartMath Discovery Program, Doc Childre and Sara Paddison, (c)
1998, Planetary
Submitted by Mrs. Lee Thatcher
We’ve all heard that expression so many times, it almost sounds hollow- unless we’re old enough to actually remember “The Good Ole Days.” But what does it mean? Was life in the USA really better fifty or sixty years ago? Eighty years ago?
Exclamations:
"Well knock me down and steal muh teeth!"
"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit."
"Ahm fixin ta do that"
Threats:
"I'll slap you so hard, when you wake up, your clothes will be outta style."
"This'll jar your preserves."
"Don't you be makin' me open a can o' whoop-ass on ya!"
Compliments:
"Cute as a sack full of puppies."
"If things get any better, I may have to hire someone to help me enjoy it."
"Gooder than grits."
By Mrs. Anjum Wasim Dar
Submitted by: Fay Oxley
She is a grown woman now with a husband and children of her own. I remember the Christmas in 1960 when she was ten days old. She came to us when misfortune and worry seemed to follow us. Her father had been injured early in the summer and had been unable to work for many months.
By: Sandy Williams Driver
While searching for something to snack on the other day, I scrounged around in my kitchen cabinets and then opened the refrigerator. With three teenagers in the house, there wasn’t much to choose from inside the softly humming appliance; a small bowl of leftover broccoli, an empty carton of milk, a few eggs, two brown colored apples and one shriveled up orange.
By Sandy Williams Driver
(Disclaimer: At American Legacies we strive to preserve the "old" language and spelling that stories are submitted with. Although they appear wrong to us now, this is from ages gone by.)
The image above is of an original Nickledeon Machine
I have a vague recollection of the times back in the early 1950's, when my brother and I would get to ride a train around 700 miles from our home in Pennsylvania to Chicago, without a parent or guardian to watch over us.
I was a very young boy at the time. I don't exactly remember how old I was when our train rides stopped, but I would guess they stopped when I was around 8 years old. The only reason I gave that age as a stopping point is because by the time I turned 10, we moved away from Pennsylvania.