The Old Henry J, Growing Up In the Fifties

photo fo two people, a child and an adult looking at a sunset over the ocean

Life was a lot slower and simpler in the fifties and sixties.

Written by Gary Wonning

My grandparents had given me a nineteen fifty-two Henry J for my first car, I was only fifteen so I couldn’t legally drive it on the road, but I kept that car spotless. This was in the early sixties, our lives revolved around hot good looking cars. Very seldom did a week go by when I didn’t wash it or clean it up to keep it looking nice.

In all reality, it wasn’t much of a car, but it ran and had a radio, what else did I need?

I was the only one in my group of friends that had a car, so I was top dog.

Soon, Jim  and I would be making weekly trips to Batesville in my juke box on wheels, in search of adventure, and whatever else we could find.

I started to have trouble with it, minor things; the doors wouldn’t stay closed, radiator problems and such.

One Saturday evening, we had decided the proper action would be to circle the Gibson Theater in Batesville and wait for the show to end. We reasoned that girls would come swarming out of the theater and that would be our chance to meet a couple of them. (Teenage logic.)

Growing up on a dairy farm in southeastern Indiana, Gary traveled very little until midlife, when the opportunity became available to him.

Grabbing his camera and a bag full of equipment, he began his vision quest traveling to most areas of the United States and several countries abroad.

Along the way he collected several thousand photographs that he wants to share with everyone.

Gary decided the best way to accomplish his goal was to publish photo documentaries on the various areas of the world he has visited.

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What will follow will be several photography books, who knows how many will wind up in his collection.

To contact Gary:


Surviving The Winter Down On the Farm

Written By: Gary Wonning

To be able to go to school every day we would wait at an intersection along the highway for the school bus to arrive in the morning and dad would be there waiting for me when the bus arrived back in the evening.

It was the end of March before Santa found out where I was living. When I came home from school one evening, there in a Montgomery Ward shopping bag was my basketball lying in Grandpa’s chair waiting for me. No Christmas wrappings, I guess Santa ran out of paper.

The author has been a writer/photographer for over thirty years. Specializing in nature and landscape photography, as well as studying native cultures.

His travels have taken him to most of the United States, as well as Australia, Belize, Egypt and the Canary Islands.

He has studied the Mayan culture of Central America as well as the aborigines of Australia. Photography has given him the opportunity to observe life in various parts of the world.

He has published several books about his adventures.

For more information, please consult his website,

Your comments are welcome