This is the first house my parents ever bought. It was in Casper Wyoming. My dad recalled the house was on Dahlia Street. We lived here when I was in the second grade. It was a long time ago but I have many fond memories from that time. My first dog, Patricia, followed me home from school here. Later she gave birth to eight Collie-German Shepard puppies in the basement. I remember my dad flying a kite in Casper’s notorious never ending winds from our driveway. I collected horny-toad lizards in the hills around this house. I also crawled through a long drain pipe under a nearby mall’s parking lot with a friend: a stupid dangerous thing to do. My grade school gang threw rocks at cars on the sparsely populated roads; drivers were not amused but we were never caught. Casper was before my younger brother was born. My dad was often away working leaving me with my sister and mom. It was in this house that I dropped a weight on my mother while she was cleaning a small closet. She cried; it was the first time I ever saw my mother cry. My grandmother Hazel snapped this Kodachrome slide sometime in 1959. Without this mundane picture, it’s unlikely I would remember much from this period. Save your pictures; they’re parts of you.