When i was a kid…

1960s nostalgia


When I was a kid, we once took a summer vacation by roping off a segment of the farmer’s cow pasture, pitching a tent, and setting up a small charcoal grill. The fishing by the river was good, but the cow patties were a bother. 

When I was a kid, we rode to Canada with a caravan of family and friends. Four or five of us kids rode in the back of Dad’s pick-up truck, lying flat out on a plywood board held up by the wheel wells. A piece of jagged carpet covered the splinters. Five-gallon jugs of gasoline were stored under our plank bed. 

When I was a kid, the dark, wood-paneled basement became Barbie-doll/G.I. Joe city. The creepy shelves under the basement stairs were our country store. A cardboard box became a ship, a cabin, a rocket ship, anything we wanted it to be. We often put a grocery box on the Radio Flyer wagon and pretended to be riding an Amish buggy. My brother would push the wagon with me in it down the steep hill by the old farmhouse. My buggy had no horses to lead the way. 

Ah, the nostalgia – stories about the good old days when I was a kid fill my mind and make me laugh, even the ones that filled me with terrible as a child. As an adult, I do everything I can to care for and honor those folks who filled my mind with delightful memories. As a grandparent, I do everything I can to fill my little ones with memories so they can one day look back and laugh and remember the good old days.

House on the Highway

House on the Highway – Published in the 2017 summer issue of Common Ground Magazine.      When I was four years old, I lived with my mom, dad, and brother in an old farmhouse.       I have small pieces of memory from the house, but few of them

porch neighbors

Empty Porches

Empty Porches When I turned teenager, my family moved from a house surrounded by farmland to a small community in central Pennsylvania. Oakland Mills sits on both sides of one of the two main roads that run the length of Juniata County. Its population included about 17 households and less


milk glass vase


It was an ordinary, nothing special dish with waves of rolling milk glass edges, a glossy whatnot sitting on an antique coffee table waiting for someone to send it flying to the hardwood floor.   My brother and I had pushed Mom to her limits that day. She was beyond

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Front Porch Stories

Deb Richmond, author

I miss sitting on a front porch swing, greeting the farmer as he walks by, handing candy to trick-or-treaters whose eyes I recognize under the masks, waving to blond-haired toddlers hanging out the back of the Amish horse & buggy, and laughing with my neighbor trying to get the dog leash untangled from her legs. I miss knowing the people of my community and being known by them. 

This is a place to tell the stories of caregivers, growing older, being grandparents, and memories of days gone by.

memories of yesteryear and days pastWhen I was a kid…

Stories and nostalgia from days gone by…

Read more

grandchildren grandparentsGrandma’s House

Resources and activity ideas for grandparents

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caregivers at nursing homeAlzheimer’s Information Page

Information on caregiving, dealing with dementia and Alzheimer’s

Read more

staying healthy while growing oldI’m not a kid anymore

Resources for growing old gracefully

Read more

About the book The Wandering Place by Deb Richmond:

book published

Middle-aged Kaye Elliott thinks her new husband’s rowdy past might fuel her writing career and free her from the travails of teaching middle school. Instead, the shenanigans and struggles of her aging in-laws, William and Grace, spawn a novel. The octogenarians complain of horses in the hospital and hear gypsies in the attic—signs of dementia that threaten their independence. When the family intervenes, William and Grace run away from home—two gray hairs on the loose with no one at the wheel.
Kaye’s novel takes an unpleasant turn when the confused chatter of scrambled minds reveals a sixty-year-old scandal about William and a mysterious, missing woman. Could the gentle old man that Kaye sees be responsible for a sinister crime?

Making its way to a publisher…


Deb Richmond, Memory Collector, Author

About the Author

Deb Richmond is a middle school teacher who spends weekends grading essays and moaning loudly over run-on sentences. Her free time is spent trying not to grow old through biking, swimming, going to the gym, reading until napping overtakes, wrestling with rowdy grandchildren, and filling young minds with literary characters and plot devices. She has been known to use too many run-on sentences.


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