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Things Never Change.

I remember exactly how old I was when I finally started washing my feet.  I was 12.  Don’t get me wrong, my feet got washed all those years, but like most kids my age, my parents kept me clean until I was old enough to bathe on my own, and then I took over from there.  But at the age of 12, I suddenly became an absolute hygiene nut, thanks to a new friend in the neighborhood.  

In 1975 most kids left the house early in the morning.  They’d return for lunch, unless some other mom up the street fed them, back for supper, then head right back out until after dark.  Kids knew more about the neighborhood than anyone else on the block because of our proximity on our bikes.  

In the summer of my 12th year, a new family moved across the street.  While riding past their house on my bike as they moved in, I noticed a statuesque, and smiling person in the front yard, looking right back at me.  It was a girl.  I saw girls before this, but for reasons I didn’t understand then, I was especially intrigued by this girl.  Maybe it was the afternoon sun, the moon, or another force in the universe, but I knew I had to meet her.  And, of course, I did. She lived across the street.  

After they settled in from the move, I rolled up the driveway on my bike to say hello.  Her dad w