Back in the 1930s when I was a young sprout of 3 my Aunt Bertha owned a camp near Middletown, MA. [not sure of the spelling, whether it's ton or town]. Any way there was a pond we use to walk to back in the woods. there was a dirt road we walked on and many times we would run across a skunk. Nope never did get to smelling like you know what! It was fed by a knee deep river we played in. After I grew up to 6 on Sunday afternoon someone would say lets go to Buck’s Pond and the mad scramble began to get .25 cents together for a gallon of gas. This was the great Depression years so that was a lot of money to scrape together like $4.01 is today. My brother-in-law was the one with the car so instead of loading up the car and driving to the station someone had to walk several blocks to the end of our street and back carrying a gallon jug. Then you drove to where you were going. Gas tanks were bone dry until filled up. I wonder how many would walk carrying a gallon jug for one gallon today!! God was good then too we always scraped up the quarter just as you scrape up the $4.01. Thank God for his blessings and he will shower you with more.
[...] Enjoy! [...]