There I was, a somewhat normal child growing up in a rural area of Michigan finding myself amongst a large Catholic family with 3 boys and 3 girls. Being the oldest girl and third in the sibling line, I naturally became the built-in babysitter for my 3 younger siblings, Peggy, Tommy and Mary. They were all quite sweet and I liked them a lot. I sometimes pretended they were my kids and acted like a second mom, especially to little Mary who was ten years younger than I. With her snowwhite curly locks and beautiful face, she reminded me of my very own little playdoll. I adored her and every chance I got carried her around with me as if I owned her.

Tommy was big for his size, a rough-and-tumble type kid, very amicable and gregarious and always coming up with schemes and ideas with the neighborhood kids. Some of them got him and them into interesting situations. Peggy was very special with her rich golden hair, her tall sleek good looks and an above average intelligence. She was not only smart but quite beautiful. Early on we developed a close bond which has remained to this day. And there were my two older brothers, Bob and Richard. I remember Bob, the eldest, as a tall and lanky kid, tough and rebellious on the outside but underneath a softy at heart. He was the instigator at the family dinner table secretly getting us to laugh and act up til someone got into trouble and then pretended he had nothing to do with it. Richard was always carefree, laughing and playing around. He was an agreeable type, very likable and just seemed to want to have fun in life and proceeded to do so.

My mother who was a hard working woman, diligently kept her home spotless as she constantly picked up after her 6 kids. She was friendly, lively and talkative, a free spirited soul who was well loved by all. And then there was my father who was a strong, quiet man, very serious and steadfast about creating a good life for his family. Although he had a quiet side, he could also be the life of the party when he wanted to be and somehow it always felt safe when he was around. He was kind and gentle and we truly loved him.

Being the eldest daughter, I used to help my mom a great deal with the cooking, cleaning and washing .Yet I always yearned for the freedom of the outdoors and couldn't wait to leave the housework behind . Once it was finished, I bounded for the back door and never ceased to revel in the many wondrous activities I could find to do in that beautiful land. Winter brought great snowball fights, saucer sledding, ice skating and snowfort and snowman building. Summer would find me wandering through the nearby woods, climbing trees and pretending to be hunting bears, playing cowboys and indians with the many neighbor kids and endlessly playing hide and seek amongst the hundred pine trees that surrounded our land of 3 acres. One of my fonder memories was walking in the woods with my father looking for mushrooms under the moist fallen leaves. "Mushroom hunting" as we called it. We'd pick large bags full and bring them home to my mother who'd clean and fry them up in butter for dinner. What a delectable treat.

One day in l963, my father informed us we were moving to Las Vegas, Nevada because he needed a dryer climate for his health and there were better job opportunities in the construction business there. What an unsuspected surprise it was to think I would be leaving the only world I had ever known. After the shock wore off, I began to experience curiosity and then interest and then some anticipation. Who knew what this new land would bring but slowly I began to look forward to it. The absolute complete change in environment would turn out to be something I would never have imagined.

Up to this time Las Vegas was only a name of a town far, far away from my current world. But little did I know that my surroundings would soon change from a life of peach trees, wheat fields and apple orchards to a dry hot desert land filled with glaring bright city lights in a town that never slept. The truth is I loved it from the first moment I laid eyes on it. My father who had moved there ahead of us to prepare for our arrival, met us at the train station at 4:00 o'clock in the morning. He then proceeded to walk us down Casino Center Blvd to show us the sights. It was truly a startling picture to behold. Looking down the Boulevard, all you could see for a dozen blocks were thousands of bright glowing lights, blinking off and on against the black still sky. It was as though it was daylight on this street alone and night had fallen elsewhere.

There were throngs of people criss-crossing the street at every intersection, pushing and bumping into each other as they hurriedly made their way from one casino to the next all the while tightly clutching paper cups full of coins. The night air was hot and dry yet there was a rush of cold air blasting out from each open air casino as we passed by. In the distance you could hear a constant, loud and annoying voice repeating over and over and over "Howdy Partner". At first it was uncertain as to where this sound was actually coming from but shortly we came upon this colorfully lit 30 foot neon cowboy overhead saluting and welcoming the many droves of people into this mesmerizing world. I recall staring wondrously at the madcap tourists screaming feverously as they won their nickel and dime jackpots. Each casino had it's very own unique sideshow with brilliant red lights atop slot machines flashing off and on, loud harsh clanging bells ringing out, and the everpiercing shriek of sirens penetrating the night air each time a jackpot payoff was made. No one seemed to have a care in the world, except for hurriedly shoving that next coin into the next slot machine. I recall wondering if anyone slept in this magical town. I also recall wondering if any of my friends back home would believe me if I told them what I saw. It all felt so free, so recklessly abandoned and completely unrestrained. I looked up at my father in wonderment who gave me a knowing wink. "It's something isn't it?" he said. I nodded and smiled and knew everything would be alright if he thought so. The temperature on top of the Fremont Hotel said 110 degrees. It was July, I was 13 and I was thrilled we were going to live in such a place.
You can e-mail me at: hampton@pacificnet.net