Neighbors

When I was a young boy growing up in Woodland Heights on the southern edge of the smallish town of Brownwood, Texas, I knew all my neighbors. There were the Dubres, the Jones, the Grooms, the Branums, the Hills, the Whites, the Bullions, the Lees, the Richardsons, the Beddows, the Jacobs, the Myricks, the Jacksons, the Cumbas, the Sprinkles, the Parkers and I can still go on and on, street by street. I am proud to say I still know my neighbors here in Burleson, Texas. They are the family with the old green pickup, the ones that drive the white Cadillac, the guy with the loud motor cycle, the real old couple, the newlyweds, the single guy with the long hair, the retired school teacher, the Ft Worth cop, the folks with the ugly yard, the preacher and his wife, the guy with the huge camper in his driveway and I could go on and on.