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In 2000, we moved my mother from Algona to Park Ridge, Il. On the spur of the moment, I knocked on the front door of our old house and told the people living there that I grew up in their house in the '50s and '60s and asked if I could bring my daughter in to show her what it looked like. After hesitating for a few minutes, they let us come in and take some pictures.

The woodwork was still in great shape. The living room ceiling my father installed in the '60s was still there. We used to call this the "colonnade" and I scratched them horribly trying to climb them while wearing my cowboy belt buckle