The sharpest memory of our old-fashioned Christmas eve is my mother's hand making sure I was settled in bed.

The palest ink is better than the sharpest memory

You wouldn't expect her to be at her sharpest after that. But I suppose, on the other hand, she has hardly missed a dogfight for months and the other horse is more on the way up.

I can still remember the feel in my hand of that most wonderful American coin ever minted, a nickel with a buffalo on one side and the head of an Indian on the other. That nickel was a daily proof of our country's past. Bring it back!

Good, old-fashioned ways keep hearts sweet, heads sane, hands busy.

Our small ears never had such a workout as on the Fourth of July, hearing not only our own bursting crackers but also those of our friends, and often the boom of homemade cannon shot off by daring boys of 16 years, ready to lose a hand if it blew up.