As I look through my past.

My life has been a fast blur.

How many hats have I worn?

In the windmill of my memory.

How many times has my heart been broke?

How many loves have entered and left?

How many more before my heart is no more?

In the windmill of my memory.

When I was young in the spring of my life.

I looked at life, so much different than today.

I gave my heart away far to easily in those earlier days.

I gave all I had to give and got nothing in return.

In the windmill of my memory.

When I was in the autumn of my life.

I was a little wiser and took care with my heart.

I took just one more chance at the game of love.

I came up with the jackpot, and found the love of my life.

In the windmill of my memory.

As I look toward the future the winter of my life.

I find myself looking forward to this season.

This will be the time when we can slow down.

I will have more time to be with my love.

In the windmill of my memory.

I will have time to be young once more, as I play with my grandchildren.

As I will be able to see life a new, through their eye's.

As I will have learned, forgot and relearned as they start to learn.

As I tell them of my life when times were simpler.

In the windmill of my memory.

As we played kick the can, hide and seek, jacks, marbles and jump rope.

We spent all our free time outdoors and far less inside.

Spent many hours with our friends out in the park.

Made up games from the time we started outdoors, until darkness forced us home once more.

In the windmill of my memory.

We looked forward to Friday night's sock hops.

We waited all week for Saturday night, to hop in someone's car and head to the outdoors drive-in-theater.

We fixed meals together, we ate as a family with no TV on.

Our parents knew where we were and whom we were with, they knew the names of our friends and their parents.

In the windmill of my memory.

We went to school to learn, with little peer pressure.

We had a sense of school spirit, as we cheered our school teams at each game.

We went to church on Sundays and youth groups through out the week.

We knew where we came from and what our country stood for.

In the windmill of my memory.

We knew what real friendship meant back then.

We did not have any "fair weathered friends".

We were brought up with manners and were taught what fair play was all about.

We had chores at home before and after school.

In the windmill of my memory.

We had no cell phones, game boys, pagers, I pods or computers.

Not many of us had cars as teens do today.

Most of us had jobs, at age sixteen we had no allowances.

We had a soda shop that had fountain sodas.

In the windmill of my memory.

We went roller skating, ice skating, fishing and swam in ponds.

We caught night crawlers for bait to fish with.

We caught frogs to torment our mothers with.

We had sleepovers and camp outs, sang songs by the fire.

In the windmill of my memory.

We grew up respecting our parents and elders.

We took time to help people, just for the sake of helping them.

We grew up with " The Pledge to our Flag".

Prayer in school was not an issue, as we learned to pray.

In the windmill of my memory.

As I look back on my family's history of what was and what is today.

I am not sorry for how I grew up, for I was taught to have moral values.

My value is so much stronger, than what I see in the younger generation of today.

My sense of self worth is stronger, than what I see today.

In the windmill of my memory.

We supported our country and our leaders in times of war.

We volunteered our time as wars raged throughout the world.

We sacrificed at home, so our troops could have more of what they needed.

We did not place blame on our leaders, for our own lack of duty to this country or the countries we tried to help.

In the windmill of my memory.

As I think back on what was, as to what is.

I wonder how our children saw their youth.

If they feel that life is better now for them.

Did we miss out on what they have now, instead of what we had back then?

In the windmill of my memory.

Will my grandchildren know what our flag stands for?

Will they care about our flags history?

Will they know or even care about what their great grandparents sacrificed, so that they could be free?

Will they know that it's ok to pray if they wanted to?

In the windmill of my memory.

Will our children tell them the stories of their parents history?

Will they know their heritage?

Will they know that our country was founded on God?

Will they know the price of freedom?

In the windmill of my memory.

Freedom is never free, there is a heavy price that we pay.

Throughout our country's history, so many gave their lives.

Just so that I could tell this story, to my grandchildren one day.

Our country is only as strong as the weakest link.

In the windmill of my memory.

Will our country grow stronger, as we grow older?

Will our grandchildren surprise us as leaders?

Will they continue to be safe in a free country?

Will their freedom's still be as it was for us in the past?

In the windmill of my memory.

I see more and more of our freedoms taken away.

So we remain safe in our own land.

Will my grandchildren understand what was lost?

Will they feel safe at home, as we are being attacked?

In the windmill of my memory.

I hear everyday bring our troops home now.

I worry about what will occur, if this happens.

Yes our troops will be home once more, but many will have died in vain.

Will we end up finishing this war here at home, if they come home now?

In the windmill of my memory.

Will my grandchildren understand, war here in this land?

How will we react as it gets up close and very personal?

It has been generations since we have fought a war here at home.

Will we come back together as a country, as we once were?

In the windmill of my memory.

I think of a simpler time, as I grew up.

Yes I really think I miss the way it was.

It makes me sad that my children have no clue.

Of how it feels to be proud to serve in our military.

In the windmill of my memory.

Where do we go when our inspiration is gone?
What do we do if there is no song?
How do we answer in our hearts what’s wrong
Why is the teacher of life so hard?
Where do we go?

Why does the sun shine just a little less bright?
Why is the starlight just not quite right?
Who do we turn to when our inspiration is yanked away?
How do we find our way to repair what was yesterday?
Where do we go?

How can one little thing matter so much
When your heart was in the right place
How could it of caused such a fuss?
Can someone please explain the cause?
Where do we go?