At twelve, I decided delivering newspapers had to be easier than mowing lawns and shoveling snow. My brief career delivering the free Community News in Ferguson proved otherwise—especially after I discovered a storm sewer near the beginning of my route.
In the summer of 1963, I wanted to prove I belonged with a group of Tampa Bay boys. That meant climbing onto a tiny maintenance platform beneath the Howard Frankland Bridge and jumping into the dark water below. I did it once. Once was enough.
If you grew up near a golf course, you probably remember hunting golf balls in the ponds. What started as a summer adventure often turned into a small business, teaching kids about hard work, entrepreneurship, and the thrill of finding buried treasure one muddy golf ball at a time.
Before smartphones and television distractions, dinner was about more than food. It was where families prayed together, shared stories from the day, learned manners, and built memories that lasted a lifetime—even if the menu was nothing more than tuna salad and canned baked beans.
Long before screens dominated childhood, kids entertained themselves outdoors with bicycles, neighborhood games, roller skates, and imagination. Here’s how childhood looked before batteries became required equipment.
Homemade popcorn balls, pillowcase sacks, and neighbors who knew your name. Halloween in Ferguson wasn’t candy—it was community.
A kid, a spool of industrial twine, and a kite so high a jet at Lambert clipped the line. Dad grabbed the binoculars—we gave chase.
Growing up in Ferguson, Missouri, the Penhale family lived right next door. Then, through an incredible series of accidents, all four family members ended up with their arms in slings at the same time—an oddity that reportedly caught the attention of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! But looking back, that may have been the least remarkable thing about this family.