By Cait Collins
I was looking for a Halloween sweater the other day and ran across an old autograph album. It was a gift from the youth group from our congregation when Dad was transferred to Maine in 1962. Autograph albums were the rage back in the 60’s.
The white cover with gold embossed images is worn with age, but the notes and signatures brought back so many memories. The ink and pencil words and drawings have not faded. As I read the messages I began to put faces with names. Sometimes the face escaped me, but I still found much that brought a smile, a raised eyebrow, and a few tears. The memories were good.
It’s strange that this book was found shortly after I received a note from my older sister who lives in Wichita Falls. She asked me what I thought about writing a memoir about growing up back in the 60’s. I called her and asked, “What would you say if I told you I have about nine chapters written?”
I think I surprised her.