As I rode north towards Iowa and my destination of the National Motorcycle Museum, I found myself on Memory Lane.
I watched highway signs conjure up days of my youth.
One such memory was living in the town of Palmyra for the summer of 1962.
A bit of trivia comes to mind...
Palmyra has been called the Handsomest City in North Missouri and has over 200 antebellum structures in a variety of architectural styles with six buildings individually listed on the National Register of Historic Places!
However, there were some dark days for this city too...
"The Palmyra Massacre" was an incident that took place in Palmyra, Missouri on October 18, 1862, during the American Civil War, when ten Confederate prisoners of war were executed in reprisal for the abduction of a local Union supporter, Andrew Alsman.
(Colonel John McNeil, aka "The Butcher of Palmyra." Courtesy of the Library of Congress.)
Ironically one hundred years later this little girl was living the life of a five year old there in Palmyra, MO.
My father built bridges for a living and that summer he packed up Mom and his 4 children to live on location there with him.
My most memorable day was walking downtown with my older sister to buy my mother a birthday present. We skipped with excitement of shopping.
The finally choice of that day was a cookie jar that we thought would be a wonderful birthday gift for Mom! 😅
We walked home & held that cookie jar like a piece of gold and as if it was our last possession to be protected with our life. ☺️
Mom was not really thrilled with this gift but she did enjoy seeing me enjoying it for many years. 😅
Years later this gift would become a cherished keepsake. With my sister's blessing, my mother would gift the cookie jar back to me.
My mother said nothing would make her happier than to let my children stick their little hands inside the cookie jar for the delicious home-made cookies just like I done as a child.
My girls, whom would often ask me to recall my story buying that cookie jar.
Of course they would argue over who would someday get that cookie jar.
My solution was to promise whomever had their first child would inherit the cookie jar.
As luck would have it my youngest daughter actually had my first grandchild.
However, that cut like a knife with my oldest daughter whom, would have her own child a mere five months later.
Sarah, my youngest came to me before I bequested it to her and insisted it would better served to give it to her older sister who clearly wanted it more.
That jar now sits prominently on my oldest daughter's cabinet awaiting it destiny's path to her daughter one day.
All in a day's ride... Life Flashes Before Our Eyes!
Nana
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