I would like to live in Disneyland.

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The best of the second ten years.

Age eleven June 1955.  Our uncle who lived in Anaheim called up one day and asked if we kids would like to go with him and see this new place called Disneyland.  I responded with a solid YES.  Let’s go.  So, a few days later along with my brother and sister and my uncles kids drove from his house just down the road to Disneyland.

To back up, I had been watching the TV program with the same name.  From time-to-time Walt Disney would give previews of what to expect at Disneyland.  One thing for sure was Walt’s love of old-time steam engine railroads.  The first thing one sees when entering Disneyland is the Santa Fe Railroad station.  But wait, there is Main Street USA, Tomorrowland, Adventureland, Fantasyland, and a few other areas of alluring attractions for kids and adults.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.  What a wonderous place.  So many things to see.  So many things to ride on.  The Jungle ride, Autopia, Mark Twains river boat, the Peter Pan ride, and much more.

You won’t believe this but it cost we kids back then only Fifty-cents to get into the theme park.  However, if you wished a coupon book of rides it cost from $2.50 up to $5.00.  Then sometimes you would finish the day with a few extra ride coupons which could be used at a later date.  An I had many later dates.  Probably about a half dozen times or so visiting Disneyland.

Therefore, if I were to take my grandkids somewhere special, it would be to Disneyland.  But wait, the cost has gone up quite a bit.  If you were to fly a family of four to California, rent a car, secure hotel accommodations, eat out and enter four people to Disneyland; you would be looking at several thousands of dollars.  But yes, it is one of the Happiest places on earth.  Go for it.  Never mind exotic islands and faraway places.  Kids and grandkids will love Disneyland.  Trust me. I’ve been there.

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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