I remember my grandmother in the Peace Garden, a small garden space attended by the ladies of the Cement Garden Club. When I was about five years old I spent a morning there watering and weeding with GrandBessie. She allowed me to water the roses, but patiently taught me not to splash the leaves lest they get discolored.

Other Garden Club ladies moved among the flower beds. They smiled kindly at me.


Above: At the dedication of the Peace Garden. Notice the wooden folding chairs in the center of the garden, set up for speeches.


Above: Looking down the street. Someone is speaking at the microphone, and someone is taking a picture of him. 

Above: Inside the Peace Garden. The round dome at the right of the photograph is Spindletop, a hilly stone outcropping in the center of the village.