Well, I remember times so long ago
that seem like only yesterday.
A youthful time that calls me so.
A time and a place that I used to know,
Back there, where my memories stay,
a song verse seems to echo it all
when I recall the song with this refrain:
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, possibilities were endless then,
those peaceful times beyond the war
where neighborhoods were places when
the happy children wandered free again.
Where their imaginations soar,
to dream, to play, enjoy each day.
Yes, I recall the song with this refrain:
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, times back then were unlike any others.
My family was like a gang,
when all my sisters and my brothers
had occupied a house with one another,
with mischief, laughter, rare harangue.
A crowded home, but boundless space
outside, where all our childhood friendships reign.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, I remember all our neighbors too:
the Slotsves, Michealeks, and Alms
the Fremonts, Senarts, Syfco crew,
the Trapps, and Applebees - to name a few;
the local kids, their dads and moms,
that made a whole community.
‘Twould be a shame to let those mem’ries wane.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, I remember music played back then,
with Elvis, Beatles, Rolling Stones,
the Beach Boys, hits within Top 10
on juke boxes, heard again and again.
The rhythms sunk into our bones.
Still, I remember most of all 
that Simon and Garfunkle song was sayin’
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, bicycles were major transportation,
or we could walk. or thumb a ride,
without a bit of apprehension.
It was a peaceful time of less contention
as we all spent our days outside,
and parents didn’t need to worry,
a time when criminals were less insane.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, the playgrounds, where we would often go
for baseball, hockey, football too;
the ice rink shoveling after snow; 
had warming house when mercury below
the zero range made noses glow. 
It seems whole neighborhoods were there!
So seldom did our many friends complain.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, there weren’t any Ninja Warriors when
they hadn’t been invented yet.
The truth is that – We could have been!
We climbed, like monkeys, everything back then,
like anything that we could get:
trees, cliffs, new building sites, and walls.
Yes, any obstacles in our domain.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, backyards were the safest place to play.
We’d often stay ‘til after dark
while playing tag,  or slam croquet, 
some badminton, catch, or ball keep-away.
Dad brought some sand from Local Park
and made a sandbox that we used.
Mom’s wading pool could barely us contain.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, Sunday was required holy day.
We’d dress up and go to the church
reflecting on our sins, and pray.
At times my friends and I would stray away
into the woods, upon a perch
until the mass time was complete.
A trick from mom a secret shall constrain.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”


Well, those were memories of Eastside kids,
we baby-boomers of St. Paul,
recollections for my grandkids
that quickly flash behind these old eyelids.
They bring a smile, as I recall,
because so much has really changed.
I’m glad I had this chance to yet explain.
“And the visions that were planted in my brain
still remain…”