Every once in a blue moon I mourn the loss of my children’s American childhood. Why do I feel this way, I think? It happens when I reminisce about the great childhood days I had playing in the woods, building “shoes” out of shingles to walk in the creek and catch tadpoles, building forts, climbing trees, and catching butterflies. Of the days my parents played in a band in an outdoor auditorium while we kids marched around...
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"The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." – Henry David Thoreau.