My childhood memories of Curryville are enveloped in sounds. Porch swings, birds, cows and tractors. Another sound came from push lawn mowers.
Our yard gave me lots of outside jobs. We had a push lawn mower and I mowed the yard (sometimes my brothers helped) and we used hand trimmers and even sometimes sewing shears to trim.
We were hard on the front yard where we played ball. Home plate was worn bare and packed down solid. I was amazed each spring when the purple hyacinth would push up and bloom right there at home plate without fail.
We had a garage. This was dad’s fix-it place. Some...