Needless to say, they spoiled me. When their first child was born, I was so jealous of him. I loved him, but I wasn't the only one anymore. My Dad made it worse by saying, "Don't guess you will want to go over there so much anymore?". I thought no one knew how I felt. Parents have a way of doing that. Built-in radar I suppose.

When I was almost 14, my parents separated. My Mother, 2 brothers and I moved about 60 miles away. My brother had rented farm there. I started school there. I HATED IT. Dropped out after about a year. When I was about 60, I went back and took the tests and got my GED. Just wanted to see if I could and wanted to do something for myself.

But I have always loved to read. Took after my father. He read anything he could get his hands on. He subscribed to the local paper. We got it a day late as it had to come by mail. No such thing as a paperboy back then. Today, wherever I go anywhere in the country, I get a newspaper. Doesn't matter if I'll ever be back there again or not. On long trips, I wind up with a newspaper from every city I stop in. This habit has also affected my oldest child who even read the London, England papers while there. I guess if you're going to have a bad habit, that one is safer than most.

Soon after we had moved, my brother was drafted into the army. That left my youngest brother, my Mother and me. He soon got married and lived with my mother and me.

My mother has always been a big coward. She never would stay at night by herself or even with me when I was 14. My brother and his wife was going to her parent's home for the weekend. He had gotten an old truck by this time. So we were going to go to my grandmothers. My brother dropped us off at the bus station. We had to walk about 5 miles after we got off the bus. It had been raining about all week. The water had overflowed the creek banks. Mom is as afraid of the water as she is the dark. She said we would have to go back since we could not get across the creek. If we went back we would have had to walk about 9 miles. Wading was the lesser of 2 evils. I had already walked far enough since I hadn't wanted to go in the first place. I told her I would wade out to see how deep it was. If it got half way to my knees I was supposed to go back. (I knew I wasn't if I could possibly get through.) Mother followed me an inch at a time while telling me to come back. I stayed just out of her reach. It was well above our knees before we got across. Mom was white as a sheet, scared to death. She was too weak and too glad to get out of the water to go after me. (If that had been one of my kids that had done that to me, and lived to get out of the water, I would have BEAT them to death when I got hold of them. At 91, my mother is still afraid and will not stay by herself after dark.

I had always said I would not ride in an airplane. I have one daughter living in Virginia. She had wanted me to visit her and come by plane. For years I wouldn't, but finally said I would think about it. After much nagging and taunts of cowardice by unnamed family members, I decided I would try it. Two of my grown brats took me to the airport to make sure I didn't chicken out. I flew from Tennessee to Virginia and back. I found there was nothing to be afraid of in flying. But two of my daughters are still cut out of my will for dragging me unto an escalator.

Further thoughts and memories are on the way. For those of you who were born and raised in the country, I hope my words evoke a past of good memories. Please join me again to see if I reveal anymore secrets of my youth.