I went to Lewis S. Libby School for K-8. The school was just a short walk, through a wooded path, from my house. A small group of 8-10 of us would walk to school each day, talking, laughing, goofing around. Because we lived in the newest development, we were often considered the “rich” kids.
My parents were both hard workers. My Mom, who retired just this year, was a nurse. Both my father and my step-father were police officers at the University of Maine. We were not “rich” by any means. As a kid, I had everything I needed, and it’s fair to say, most of what I wanted. But, it was all due to the hard work and sacrifice of my parents. For this I am forever grateful.
My father, Bryan, passed away in 1976 from cancer. Being only 9 years old when he died, I have very few vivid memories of him. I remember him always seeming larger than life and always laughing. I remember camping at Greenwood Acres in our little pop-up camper. I remember swimming with him in the pool at the campground. But most of all, I remember seeing him in his uniform and thinking I wanted to grow up to be a cop, just like him. It didn’t work out that way. Life’s funny like that. But, I like to think he’d be pretty proud of how I turned out.
My mother has always been there for me. I can’t say enough about my Mom. She has bandaged the wounds (and there were a few), wiped the tears, taught the lessons, administered hugs (and allergy shots 🙂 ) and everything else a Mom should do. She sometimes tells me that she doesn’t think she did the best job as a mom. But, I wouldn’t trade a minute of it for anything in the world.
I imagine i’ll write more about growing up in Milford, in the future, and I know i’ll write more about my family. But, this is enough for now.