When I was a young boy (no more than 6) I roamed the streets of Burgessville looking for trouble.
[“Burgessville is 11 mi. south of Woodstock on highway 59”]
I found it too. I stole a comic book from the general store and started up a tractor at the Co-op where my dad worked.
[“The porch looks wider now, for some reason”: above photos GH]
While visiting my childhood school and home recently I noticed that, though the house almost looks the same as it did in the 1950s, the spruce trees that once surrounded the yard have been thinned out a great deal - and the few that remain are quite a bit taller now.
[“Three Harrisons and two Roses. GH on the left.”]
So am I. But I still like playing catch.
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