Notes

In the 1920s, when my brother Edmund and I were kids, we got into a fight, and our dog bit me on the nose. I still have the scar. One day in the early 1930's, while Ma and Dad were in town shopping, I was working in the field when Edmund came across the prairie, calling to me and falling down. He got up, walked a ways, and fell down. I stopped the team of horses and ran to him. When I got there, he said, lunchtime. I helped him up, and the smell of liquor almost knocked me out. He had gotten into Dad's moonshine. There was a time when I was in the CC (Civilian Conservation Core) in Shoshoni, Wyoming. We were up in the Big Horn Mountains, chopping down trees on a hot afternoon. I headed for the shade of a big boulder when I heard a rattle snack. I was on top of the boulder in a flash. The only way down was by the rattle snack. I sat up there all day until a rescue team found me that night.

I recall the depression when we did not have milk for our coffee. Mother baked rabbit and chicken. Mother baked cookies for Easter from bread dough, cutting them out with a cookie cutter. The depression left a big fear in me that I may not be able to support a family some day. When I got my job at Ford, I prayed a lot that I would not lose it and be penniless. When I retired after 42 years and two months, my boss did not want to let me go.