My "love affair" with Lincoln, Neb., began in 1925, the year my parents, my younger sister and I moved there from Summerfield, Kan.

My brother was already living in Lincoln, having entered the university the year before at the tender age of 16. Mother and Dad decided that their son should still have some parental supervision. With this move a big, wonderful world opened up to me, a naive 10-year-old. And ever since then Lincoln has remained close to my heart.

Although we were poor in material goods, Lincoln offered us untold riches. The adjustment from small village to city was not difficult since, at that time, Lincoln was known as an "overgrown country town." While there was little in the way of industry, it was a city of government, schools, churches, doctors, lawyers, merchants and insurance companies. And it offered free or inexpensive entertainment, as well as educational and cultural opportunities.

We lived in a large house that lay in the shadow of my beloved Capitol. The last thing I did each night before I went to sleep was to look out the bedroom window to see the tower reaching into the heavens. And the first thing I did every morning was to look out to see that it was still there. It was a source of inspiration and strength to me.

All sorts of experiences in my early life were connected to the Capitol. I was afraid of lightning, but my father told me lightning would never strike our house since the tower would attract it first. This gave me comfort. As children we would play in the building, exploring its many halls, nooks and crannies until workmen would run us out. We loved to view the city from the tower and find our house and the landmarks around the city.

The Capitol was built on a pay-as-you-go basis, so construction materials decorated the grounds for many years. When the magnificent, controversial sower finally arrived he lay on his side in his boxcar bed on the west side of the building.

Not everyone felt that the sower, designed and cast in France, represented the Nebraska pioneer farmer. Carrying a bag of grain on one's hip and casting seed while walking through a field was custom in Europe. But by the time Nebraska was settled, agricultural methods had progressed beyond this practice of broadcasting seed by hand. A graffiti writer of the day scrawled "BOZO" on his body in large, chalk letters. As sacrilegious as it seemed, it brought lots of chuckles.

I was attending Lincoln High School, located east of the Capitol, when the sower was hoisted to his eternal resting place on the gold leaf dome. We couldn't believe that anything that big could be placed atop the tower. Little was accomplished in the classroom that day as the gargantuan work of art spanned the sky on pulleys that groaned with their ethereal task.

During the drought years of the 1930s the Capitol served a function not in keeping with its dignity as an office of the state, but in keeping with government "of the people, for the people." When summer temperatures in the inner city remained above the 100-degree mark for many nights, sleeping in upstairs rooms became impossible. So local apartment dwellers laid their blankets and pillows on the Capitol grounds and spent the night there in order to get a little sleep before enduring the blasting heat of the next day.

I loved everything about the Capitol. I toured it many, many times with a guide, to learn of its beauty and symbolism. I thrilled as I read everything I could about the architect, sculptors, artists and artisans who accomplished the monument acclaimed as one of the most beautiful buildings in the nation. All of our relatives had grand tours when they came to visit us. And my experiences helped me when I later taught Nebraska history at two Nebraska high schools.

Renting rooms and serving meals to boys who had left their homes to attend the University of Nebraska afforded my mother an income which enabled her to send us to school during those Depression years. How well I remember the education my sister and I received around the dinner table as we listened to our lawyer father, our law-school brother and all the young men who were on their way to becoming doctors, lawyers, teachers, engineers and businessmen.

The discussions and friendly arguments covered every field of intellectual endeavor except on football Saturdays. Then, as now, Big Red was king (although the team was known as the "Scarlet and the Cream"). My sister and I were avid knothole fans, but we did not have to peer through a knothole to see the games. One whole section was reserved for us after we showed our card and paid our 10-cent admission fee.

Money was scarce, but my sister and I received enough dimes from our parents to enjoy many summer afternoons at Muni Pool and to attend the movies on Saturday afternoons. The theaters offered added attractions -- Wilbur Chenoweth playing the pipe organ at the Lincoln Theater, vaudeville at the Liberty and then the beautiful new Stuart Theater with the ascending stage for the band.

Other Saturday afternoons we partook of free attractions -- the pet shop on South 12th Street, the army store on South 11th Street, all the stores on 'O' Street and then home by way of the city library on 14th Street -- just in time to set the table for the boarders.

Sunday mornings we went to Sunday school and church and, in the evenings, to Epworth League. Afternoons were spent at the Capitol, Morrill Hall, band concerts at Antelope Park or just riding around town -- then, as now, a favorite pastime of teenagers.

Many more experiences of my youth stand out in my memory:

n The clip clop of the shoed horses that pulled the milk and ice wagons.

n Playing jacks on the front sidewalk.

n Jennie and Elsie Ford Piper's electric car.

n The streetcar zooming down 16th Street and losing the trolley as it turned onto 'F' Street.

n The winter snow made black with soot descended from coal furnaces.

n Attending the State Fair and eating cotton candy.

n Getting up at 5 a.m. on the Fourth of July to light firecrackers.

n Taking violin lessons at the University of Nebraska Conservatory of Music.

n Having Willa Cather's sister, Elsie, as an English teacher at Lincoln High School.

I am forever grateful for my experiences "growing up" in Lincoln. It was a city big enough to provide many opportunities but small enough to have a heart beat heard by her people. And, though much has changed, Lincoln is still "home" in my memories.