the science of "hood" and the "hood galaxy"..

hello readers, here i am again.. with blazing guns fired up! As i continue to walk you through the "pages" of my academic experiences in a boom town, I will call Fairfield ct. , I will tell you of a link to the past that would always put me in the "center" of the Famous history of fairfield . What was a fond respect for the history of the town, where i would spend many visits at the "historical" museum, I became connected to the past in a magical way. As a child of about 7 or 8, there were no virtual worlds or information highways. Most of the education was learned through books (the preferred media of the times), through of course, our brilliant teachers and professors and with many opportunities for visits through history with "museums".  Having the Burr Mansion only a few miles from my home was also a connection that would later play out at my high school graduation. There was nothing in fairfield for a curious child , like myself , but discoveries.. day after day. The homescohooling part of my life was about of course family history and pasttimes... The biblical teachings of my parents that were reinforced by the bible school offered at our public school. To think that children actually prayed and learned the 10 commandments would be a bit of a shock in today's public classrooms.  Yes, that's how it was in fairfield. You had the option of walking to the congregational church from the first grade , Roger Sherman School, and study the christian bible. My parents quite naturally consented to this weekly bible study, having been from protestant christian roots. The congregational church , itself an historic landmark, was a friendly place where memorization of bible verses was rewarded. I remember winning a prayer book and bookmark with the 10 commandments on it, for memorizing the most bible verses. Probably not a big deal to some but for me, it was precious. I knew my parents would be happy and when i presented the gifts that I had one, there faces beamed like rays from the sun shining down on me. The entire idea was to "please" my parents after all. I mean my parents were allies who rescued me from certain disaster at my "old school" where the darkness resided in those classrooms. Yes my parents had set me free..free to explore without fear, free to discover my world , free to express my faith and free speech. Free is the key word here. I was just as free , I thought as "free" gets.. The new school, new friends , new excitement , new everything made me feel like a kid in a candy shop for sure. My parents were middle class but with big appetites for living the good life. My dad, a printer at McCalls magazine for years worked overtime to give our family the advantages of a home and community that was boomerfied. I mean everyone in the neighborhood was a vet of world war II as my dad was. All the children were literally the ages of my siblings and myself. We were all part of the identity of boomers. Booming economy, booming interests, booming color tv sets and refrigerators, you can be sure that the folks in fairfield were driving the manufacturing industry to record highs.  So as my parents gave me the freedom to be me, i joined the hood in my galaxy. we zoomed around..first on our scooters and bicycles and then those days transformed us to higher machinery, like cars and mini-bikes. One of my dads favorite family activities in his arsenal of field trips , was a trip to the Nike base to watch the midget cars race on a dirt track.. It was always summer and always on warm nights that we attended. My brother and nephew of course were more impressed by the event but i have to admit these events were packed to full capacity with boomer families who filled the bleachers. The best part of the night for me might be to share the evening with a friend that  i invited and shared those tasty fries with, at the concession stand.  My dad had an interest in all things motor and mechanical so it wasn't long before he was building a go cart for my nephew in his workshop and adding the "engine" was his "crowning glory"..My dad would repair cars as a hobby, loving to take engines apart and reconstruct them. Much of his time was spent "under the hood". He would always try to recruit one of us, my brother or myself to act as the "tool" deliverer.. It was a very boring job and one that we as children tried to escape by  being "scarce" when my dad would reach for his toolbox. Once named as the "tool" mascot for the day, it would be required that you stand for hours and pick the tools and hand them to my dad. The wrench, the meter, the nuts and bolts.. all had to be perfect for the exact tune up or repair.