Retire In Style Blog Too

I am told I looked like  my mother. I was raised in a very small community. There were less than 700 people, and most were emigrants from Europe. My family was from Sweden. Our neighbor was from Greece. Italians, Scottish, Mexican were all woven into the fabric of our community. There was a handful of women, who simply came out of nowhere. They were just there—polished, dyed, and beautiful.  It was a railroad town and a place for miners who worked at the lime plant to make a home. Railroaders slept in hotels, or if they were lucky, they had a woman (polished, dyed, and beautiful) with a house on this end of the line, too.  I always thought Main St. was wonderful. There were three blocks of businesses. At one end was a telephone office, George's Grocery, and a movie theater. A gas station, Smoke House Bar, a cafe with a lounge, and then Grady's Bar were in the middle. At the western edge of downtown, we had a small mercantile, an ice cream shop, a drug store, a jewelry, an...