The three of us did everything together. There was an old Jersey cow in the field behind our house that we named Bossie. Even though we did not own her...we rode her until the day she died. I remember the farmer walking her down the road one afternoon to take her to be butchered. We started wailing so loud that he turned her around and led her back into the pasture. There she stayed and lived her last days. What wonderful...wonderful memories I have of my childhood throughout those glorious years on Beech Street.