From sun up to about the time when the streetlights came on, my little sister and I spent every moment of our childhood summers outdoors. We’d ride bikes. We’d play at the park. We’d stake out a tiny plot of dirt to plant carrot seeds, which we’d pull up and eat long before they were ready. And when we were thirsty, we’d take a long drink of the crispy-cold water from the garden hose.

That comprises 100% of my memory of drinking water growing up.

One-hundred-ish years ago, my great-grandfather rolled his peddler’s cart into Grand Forks, North Dakota, decided he didn’t want to pay the tax to continue on into Minnesota, and opened the door to our family’s men’s clothing store, Silverman’s. Here are a few of my many, many, many memories of what it was like growing up surrounded by suits and hangars.