Growing up on a small farm in central Connecticut before World War II brings memories flooding back of simple things like Gramp carefully shaving with his so sharp straight razor. Sink baths. Sliding downhill in a baby’s bathtub. Bib overalls. Uncle Henry getting in trouble. Miss Kelly ruling over the 2nd grade. Mom reading “Bambi” to us boys snuggled in our beds. A walk in the woods that ends at Ferndale Dairy for ice cream. A swift ride on the Double Ripper. Making root beer. Then there are other times that were harder to understand. The destructive hurricane of 1938 that slams Connecticut without warning. The sudden declaration of war. The great Hartford circus fire. It was all part of growing up in a different time.