I want to share life lessons from memories combined with than academic records. Life lesson memories; and academic records - especially from our subconscious and childhood memories are “distorted” from our lack of understanding; our own and our family “self-talking: to sooth our conscious thoughts and preserve our self-image; whatever that image might be; tough or soft; can do or do not care; self-pity or survivor. Our memories are distorted by the self-talking we use as we internalize our life lessons and generate our view of the world. Our memories are ominous blends of convictions, bias, or worse... prejudice (a nice word for bigotry). With these known risks, I will share my own “unpolished” life-lessons… The outdoor toilet in the backyard of our century old farmhouse – a place I’ll call “house at the Caves Farm” because our farm was adjacent to Maquoketa State Park. Outdoor toilets describe all locations used to defecate or urinate just like wild birds and animals.. Outdoor toilets were a natural part of daily life on farms and most rural schools – just like when visiting or staying with my grandparents. While growing up on 240acres, working in field and pastures more than one mile from home – we did not take time or waste energy walking home to use our privy or later indoor bathroom. Outdoor backyard privies were just a fact of life which had become a reality for rural families for many generations. Outdoor privies were the only option for most country schools without a well, flush toilet, or septic system. Our home was typical of early 1940 rural homes lacking indoor plumbing. Our dishwater was drained from our kitchen sink into a pipe through the wall emptying into our backyard. Saturday night bath water was dumped from a ten-gallon metal bathtub into the kitchen sink that drained into the back yard. I was eight years old when dad dug a trench and connected clay drain tile in basement to floor drain for shower and flush toilet in the corner of small downstairs bedroom turned into a bathroom with a tub and drain. The drain tile was buried six feet deep running 200 feet in our cow pasture before flowing into a fifty-gallon barrel that overflowed in dozens of normally dry gullies on our 240acre farm. I was born in the farmhouse just like the house I recall at the “Caves” farm; I was born in the house my mother knew as home, aged seven until she married, aged 21, 1936. Two years later, I was thirteen months old when my parents moved to the Caves farm; a shared crop/livestock farm; not actual ownership of the land until four years later, 1943. Soon, three brothers were born; we shared 2 beds and a small closet at the edge of our bedroom upstairs. Mom and Dad had an adjoining, smaller bedroom with access through our bedroom. When grandmother stayed with us for a few months each year, she slept in an even smaller room, mostly a store room - with the only access through our bedroom and my parent’s bedroom - no bathroom or closets; upstairs or downstairs and no central heating heat upstairs was limited to whatever heat (not much) from downstairs that flowed through an upstairs floor register in our bedroom. When the wood stoves downstairs died after midnight, our body heat and heavy quilts were the only heat. As a baby, I have no memories of being cold or the “guilt” my mother expressed when she recalled one morning – outdoor temperatures at -25 and finding edges of my wet diaper were frozen to the blanket. Eighty-five years later, I often recall these memories when I moved to a retirement community with modern conveniences not yet available for many of the 7.8 billion residents of the world today. Many people still lack necessities: food, shelter, and clothing. These vital essentials were always available in some form during my childhood. My childhood memories are vivid comparisons of modern amenities now being offered to entice the elderly to downsize and move to a retirement community.