By Nancy Whitaker

THE TIME OF MY LIFE

Where does time go? It seems as if it was just yesterday that I was hanging on to my mama’s hand and walking down the sidewalks in downtown Van Wert.

As a little girl back in those days (and no we did not have horses and buggies), I remember of being in awe of the tall buildings, the candy counters in the stores, the smells coming from the local eateries, the soda fountains and the many downtown shoppers bustling and filling the streets.

To a child, this is like the earliest memory and maybe the biggest place they have seen. Memories of those times never go away, but time marches on.