I was born in West Palm Beach FL in the late 40's but my parents moved to Miami when I was still an infant. My fondest memories as a child was when we went to visit Uncle Don (DONALD H. BRUTTON and Aunt Helen on Granada Rd. in West Palm. Their home was like a movie set to me with a long sweeping staircase to the second floor of many bedrooms and a sitting room filled with overstuffed chairs and plump pillows. The scent of new fabric always filled the air from Aunt Helen's favorite hobby. The other woman of the house was Aunt Helen's mother, LEORA SAPP MARCH, better known as "BaBa" or the "Palm Beach GRANDMA MOSES." She painted in oil from dawn til dusk unless it was time to make more of her famous Orange Marmelade. She was up in years when I first saw her wrinkled but nimble hands. It was hard for me to visualize this frail grandmother as the young woman in a old faded photo: dressed in men's britches standing in the middle of a muddy street in Kokomo, Indiana smoking a cigar! Aunt Helen's children, by her first marriage, were DIANA and DICK BANKS. My cousins-in-law. Both a bit older, Diana was an aspiring dancer and soon whisked herself off to New York. Dick, on the other hand, was an artist (eventually of reknown) who would jump into a small row boat and create paintings of the mansions lining the waterways. He would tie up his dingy and present the owner with the custom portait of their home. By the 70's, he was known for painting the portrait of Rose KENNEDY. Uncle Don BRUTTON was a successful real estate man but what he was really known for... was inside the trunk of his car. Not one, but two, fishing rods and tackle boxes, so that he could, at any time, race off to the ONE MILE PIER and throw in a line. The second set of gear? Just in case someone wanted to go with him! It broke my heart when the pier was cut in half by a hurricane. Best fishing on the East Coast. West Palm Beach was a quiet, peaceful town with the hint of sea air always a breath away. A steady gentle breeze always seemed ready to spare you from the heat but so many trees canopied the roadways and courtyards, you were never really uncomfortable. The ceilings of homes were high; the windows always allowed for a cross breeze. And there was always time for fishing... That's some of my memories of Palm Beach Co, Fla. I wish others would put to text some of their fondest memories of the area. Renee H. Greene