Last week, I had to drive out to my old stomping grounds, Ontario, NY, to attend a funeral.  I noticed the traffic stopped up ahead and cut off on a side road.  It brought me to another and yet another before I got on familiar ground.  As I drove, I couldn't help be aware of the the new housing developments that have sprung up on these once familiar farm roads.  They were not only new developments, but huge castle like homes, looking so out of place in the rural settings.  The properties did not really offer any privacy; one could see all the other nearby castles around and behind each other.  I was surprisingly saddened by the sight.  Saddened, not because I was in envy of these folks who obviously had more money than I'll ever have, but saddened by the revelation of the ever broadening gap between the rich and the poor and the impact of the rich on not only the poor, but the environment, the land, and the real reality of how things can change during our lifetime.  Gone now, where the beautiful farming establishments that had for so long dotted the little country roads.  Gone were the empty fields, the scenic woods, the open sky, the beautiful song of silence of the outdoors.  Growing up in Ontario, we had 35 acres of land with just what I described; open fields, wooded areas, inviting one to follow the paths, orchards, streams and peace and quiet.  I remember going out back and over the hill to where I could not view the house or road and feeling so alone in my own little world.  I could close my eyes and smell the trees, grasses, and earth.  I could hear only the sighing of the ancient trees over my head, swaying to and fro in their unending song for my ears only.  As I continued closer to my destination in town, I felt a small tear, slowly making it's way down the creases of my cheek on it's journey towards my chin.  It was a strange feeling of being alone, an alien from a different world, unwillingly thrust into a society where I knew I did not fit.  I wiped the tear before it dripped off my chin, and thought of the times out back, alone with nature and realized God was there with me all the time.  Every blade of grass, every tree, was possible only with the supreme direction of he who created me.  When I get lonely or nostalgic, I think of the times in Ontario, out back, over the hill among the quiet of nature and out of vision from the castles and thank God for that life.