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Show Down Memory Lane ' BY JOHN J. CREEDON SPRING IS HERE The calendar tayt, Spring it here, although the weatherman hat failed to take note, but the aignt are unmistakable un-mistakable the days are getting longer and the snow melts so much faster and here and there a brave little flower or sprout takes a peek around and will be back tomorrow again for another try. Spring in Bingham will look on a different scene this season. There will be plenty of space for growing things to expand in, but there will be few to welcome them. The sap in deep roots of treet that saw the Canyon grow in size and importance in the State and Nation, will seek in vain the sturdy limbs, that have been cut down or knocked down by the relentless dozer aand hauled away to an ignominious ig-nominious end at the dump ground. This is the season sea-son of the year that we shake off the shackles of winter and the necessity of staying stay-ing close to home and begin to stir about and greet old friends. Last Sunday, we journeyed to just a wide place in the road. The steps leading to the back yard and lawn are still there and one little section of red wall near the road is the only evidence that our home stood there. As we passed the playgrounds, where every spring the baseball players were working out the winter win-ter kinks, we noticed the feeling of abandonment, for the swings hung empty and the teeter totter was tilted in the air, as if waiting for some boy or girl to tip it down. At the school playground it was the same, but worse. The slippery slide and the swings were gone and the flag pole was dowwn and the windows of Central School which just a year ago were covered with cutouts and spring flowers, were most ylbroken. 1 wondered who would seek out the first pussy willows wil-lows this spring and where they would be put. Old Central School was gone. Gone too was the Canyon Hall and near it sat the huge rock that was covered by the wall at the Sullener home. 1 remember the plum trees in the Heaston yard, when I passed it each day on my way to school in that longago day. Up town, there was a great gap between the post office and the old Society Hall, or BCO Hall at it it now known. Not a building stands in this area. 1 stopped the car in front of the old Royal Candy store, so they could see the murals on the back wall of the old building. 1 had forgotten for-gotten about them, until I saw them the day they tore the old building down. It brought back happy memories mem-ories of fun at the Royal. There were booths along the sides of the building aand Gus had a wonderful mechanical orchestra in a cabinet. All you had to do was drop in a nickle and select a tune and you could dance with your best girl on the tiny space. The old murals look faded and worn, but they looked on better and happier days. There they stand mute evidence evi-dence of a bygone era. Mr. Creedon Copperton to par take of a delicious delic-ious dinner sponsored by the ladies of the Catholic Church. We had a wonderful dinner and met so many old friends. It was too bad there was not room enough for everyone who came to meet together, but it was like old Bingham again. These church dinners, no matter where they are held, or by different faiths, are delightful and for a few mora-- mora-- entt those in attendance forget the cares of the day and relive the old days over again. We took a ride through Bingham, and for my family it was quite a shock to see so much of the town gone. We noted as we entered the Canyon, the wide open spaces in lower Bingham with groves of trees standing alone, where once they shaded and sheltered homes. Our old home at 192 Main is |