I look back at my three children's youth (all now over 30 and one approaching 40) and try to remember the times of their Úquot;growing up.Úquot; It is getting more difficult and the thousands of times we spent together keep slipping further and further away.

This incident came back to me during an in-class writing assignment from a wonderful Úquot;Autobiographical WritingÚquot; course at Nassau Community College. Toby Bird is our beloved professor and she gives us exercises that always manage to draw something out of the writer.

The assignment was to start off with the words Úquot;I would ...,Úquot; and then continue to write the story. This is what jumped into my pen:

I would come home from a day in Jamaica at my dental office and fall tired and spent onto the couch. I would yell out loud that Úquot;my feet were killing me.Úquot; I would plead with my two sons to take off my shoes because I had been working and standing in them all day.

Each son (they were 8 and 10-years old at the time) would grab one show apiece and begin to tear them off. As you know, male children at that age do not do anything gently.

Off would come my shoes and onto the floor would pour the day's receipts. They jumped at the money as it floated down onto the floor.

I then had to disabuse them of the idea that they were going to keep any of the cash they had unearthed. It took a lot of haggling.

Today, in our modern, urban society we no longer feel comfortable walking the streets with valuables in our pockets, pocketbooks or our wallets.

Women have taken to stashing all valuables in their brassieres and men place them in their shoes. I can just hear the future thugs and robbers saying, Úquot;Never mind your pocketbook, just hand over what you have in your bra.Úquot;

Is that what our modern, enlightened world has come to? I guess it is!