When you get to the ripe old age of 75 to 80 and above, you find that you have countless memories of persons, places, and things of the past. It is a known fact that the older one gets, the more he or she treasures those memories, whether pleasant or sometimes sad. I hasten to add that I didn't fit into the 75 to 80 category referred to above. There are quite a number of us who became aware of our past at a much earlier age. In my case, it was in the 1960's, when Judy and I started a family and felt compelled to pass on to our children and grandchildren "The Way We Were" in our younger years. They also tell me that as one ages, he or she develops a certain wisdom. I do believe that to be the truth. One of my lasting memories is found in my many years of service at St. Anthony's Church in Hamilton. I have been entertaining the idea of writing an article on my years at that great old church on South Olden Avenue. Some of my most memorable years were spent as a very active parishioner in that parish, having served as Lector, singer, Eucharistic Minister, President of the Holy Name Society as well as being the first male President of the St. Anthony Grammar School PTA, carnival worker, lawn mower and clean up worker in an impossibly littered environment. The graphic above is just one very small memory of the many I have garnered over the years. I still remember when an aging "Iron Mike," Monsignor McCorristin rode shotgun with me in that kelly green 1961 Rambler. He really relished the ride from St. Anthony's to Immaculate Conception Church on Chestnut Avenue. The love the people had for the man as we rode slowly along Olden Avenue to Hamilton was a thrilling experience for me. I will never forget the cheers from the spectators as Monsignor, cigar clenched firmly in his teeth, waved to all those admirers. Memories are made of this, my dear visitors!