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I grew up here in my home town of Wichita. My bother and I were raised by my mother after my age of 7. In those days there was no television. We kids in the neighborhood made our own fun, our own games, and we spent our life as much as possible out doors in the Kansas fresh air. We played "kick the can" after school and homework were finished for the day. And "Ante Ante Over", throwing the ball over the house. There was baseball played in the field, and tomboy games where a young girl didn't even think about boys being sources to entice, but just as "the guys". What beautiful memories of those days. Of course, for those friends who are visiting and know me.... <s>...... I was also known by my first name at "St Joseph Hospital" the closest source of emergency treatment. If my Mom was not home to take me, one of the neighbors would grab me up and take me over....and the Nuns would say.......here comes Nance again.....with a smile on their faces. They all liked this little "tomboy" who came to them for care with her----cut in the head, made by a stick, from Tony one of 8 brothers, and my best friend, and---- the hoe that it took 2 men to pull our of the bottom of my foot, when I jumped off the cab of a pickup into the bed where the hoe was laying.---And the time I had jumped on a pony that was in a field by where I walked to school eveery day, and the pony threw me near a barbed wire fence, hooking my finger on it..... Gosh,---SIGH---those were the "good ole days". <Smile> To Be continued.............

{This story will be continued every 2 weeks or so....there's just too much to tell at one time...so I hope you'll come back. You already know I survived....but just how you wonder???......Come back and I'll tell you.)

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