I grew up in the country. No house keys (the doors were never locked). No fences. No street lights. No grocery store within miles. No video games (or any videos for that matter). No cable TV. No cell phones. No computers. No TV dinners.

But we did have horse corrals nestled among gently swaying pines and shady oak trees. Trips to the library to fill up laundry baskets with books. Rented film projectors to see Dracula on a sheet taped to the wall. A community lake where I learned to swim. A sailboat in the garage.

We did ask our neighbors for eggs and sugar and advice. We knew the basic history of every family in the neighborhood. Kids walked from house to house to play, parents tracking us down by phone to come home for dinner. And we ate at the table.

Going to the movies was a real treat. Hearing coyotes howling in the night was normal. Snakes were common but still scary. Deer, rabbits, goats and even a stray horse now and then were regulars in the garden.

Community happened every day. Life, death, and other milestones were all celebrated. Every family was a different religion, or no religion at all. Political differences were discussed at birthday gatherings or the annual Women's Association Luau, but with a measure of respect for those involved in the conversation. Nobody even thought to build a fence around their yard.