Probably not too many could come out of their brick houses and Lincoln log cabins to remember the toys that we enjoyed on dark, cold winter nights when we were making Christmas lists when I was a child.

How about Lincoln logs — wooden miniature logs with notches on each end that could eventually shape a log cabin, which we assembled to look like the old cabins that Abraham Lincoln and people in his era lived in. There were logs of all sizes to give options for windows, doors and appearance of the dwellings we created. Finally, a green roof was designed in such a fashion to top off our pioneer day creation.

Then there were plastic building bricks (first created as wood bricks). The bricks would snap together into brick houses of all shapes and sizes. If we were patient enough and had enough bricks, we could literally build small villages, complete with figures, cars and other imaginary touches that we could assemble in our little town.

How many can remember the likes of tinker toys, erector sets and other toys that demanded a bit of creativity in assembling a figment of our imagination on rainy days?

I was an only child so these types of toys represented “companionship” in a sense. Even more of a sense of togetherness came from a family with Walton-like dynamics, mom, dad and grandma, who lived with us.

Often when my parents needed to run errands, grandma would sit at the card table with me and assist in constructing our imaginary buildings. Sometimes there would be more that would go with such encounters. We would bake cookies together and sit down to our logs and consume the warm goodies while we created our dwelling.

When my mother would attend a church meeting or club, my dad would be the co-creator, but that, too would be accompanied by enjoyable goodies such as home-made fudge complete with thermometer and small dish where mine would be poured to cool as a later treat.

I’m not sure where this column came from other than the fact that I was reflecting on these times the other day when I was driving down the road.

Then I think of the story I heard of sometime ago during a severe ice storm. A mother told me that they lost their electricity. She said that her son said to her, “mom, if we don’t have electricity, does the computer work?”

“No,” she said, “if there is no electricity, there is no computer.”

“Are we going to be okay,” replied the son.

I guess it was the simplicity of those “long ago” days that I enjoyed about my reflection — not to mention the creativity, family companionship, goodies (of course!) and sense of accomplishment.

There is something foundational about those times that established the ways I still build my thought processes these day.