Walk of the Hawk
A walk through time, in time and beyond time.


Preface

Many have asked for a more detailed profile of my life than what is found on the website. These requests have increased over the last six or seven years. So I have decided to honour the requests

Introduction

To reconstruct all the nuances and variants of one's past history is indeed a daunting task. Especially since I have lived and I underline the word lived with the broadest of strokes. It is one thing to just exist and quite another to live "Life" to it's fullest. Experiencing the "All and Everything" which has been given in such an abundance, so it might be experienced.

My glass has never been empty, the more I drink the more I have. Along the same line as; the more I learn, the more there is to be learned. The more I give the more I receive. Well, you get the point.

My journey through life has led me into the wildernesses; into the valleys of the veil of tears and sorrows, out of the lowlands to walk in the mountains, high above the clouds of hopelessness and meaninglessness. So I might inhale and feel the sheer excitement and wonderment of being allowed to live in the midst of this ongoing unfathomable Cosmos that nullifies all description of the how and why? What a privilege to be a part of, whatever the purpose may be.

The Spring and Summer winds of yesteryear have come and gone. And the days of my Autumn are but a precious few. For the Winter of my life is waiting to embrace me. The length of its days and nights. I do not know but my Eighty years has taught me that each new day is a gift for which a daily thanksgiving should be offered. The expression of the following will be an attempt to define my life which is but a nano-flickerof "The Flame of Creation." And because this is so, any sequence of mere words, regardless of their arrangement would be as inadequate. As if one was trying to capture  the height, width an depth of even a blade of grass. Let alone a definitive description as to who and what I am or why I am?

The words: a "daunting task" is indeed that. For this exercise to remember; asks of me to walk back into the past and unearth many of the memories which I have either buried or detached myself from. The difficulty lies in my preference to treat the past as there is no past, the future as there is no future. This is why I so often refer to the words:" Let the dead bury the dead". And adding a relative word, 'Life is for the living', the living of the 'Now'. The past and the future are within the 'Now'. We might even say; that each of us holds in our hands the "Finite", the "Eternal and the "Infinite." Would you agree? Yes!

Those who 'see and hear' are aware that whatever has a beginning has an ending. Because of this awareness; their earthly life is a momentary reflection, a relative reference point to "That" which "Just is". And those that have eyes to see and ears to hear. Have always been and always will be One and the Same with "All and Everything" and with "That which Just Is". Is there a word for this "already, already unconditional condition", not really. But if you need one, let's call it; the "One for All and All for One Condition."

My, my, how I do carry on!

I ask of the reader to appreciate my dilemma which is somewhere between the "rock and the hard place". Because under lying this quandary is the ever haunting question; "What is Truth?" And Truth is part and parcel of this remembering exercise.

Would you agree that our seeing and hearing is filtered, is partial at best. Do we not create the separate worlds we live in? And write the scripts of our belief systems, lifestyles, preferences, attitudes, wants and desires. And yes, we even have a hand in creating our woes, worries and fears. No doubt, we are probably one of the most diversified and complexed species roaming this planet.

The thoughts and words which I have written up to now have been as much for my eyes as for the eyes of the reader to remind me to be as factual and as transparent as possible. And to use the necessary discretion as needed, when it comes to the other players that will surface from time to time on this stage. I will not try to justify any of the actions of those who will appear between these pages. Nor will I justify my own.

Please allow a personal note, if you will. I was asked about an experience I had mentioned during a "Hawk Talk" at a University; "Were you telling us the truth. Did that really happen to you? My reply "Yes, give or take a fact here or there".

Come let's take a serendipity stroll; through, in and beyond time. We will walk some of the paths and by-ways of past memories and reflection. Hesitating now and then to listen for some of the fainter echoes; the long forgotten and those which were buried very deep.

Let's start with the words: "It's a boy, he's a survivor and so is his Mother". These words announced a new arrival on the spinning planet called Earth; a seven month preemie that could be held in one hand, weighing in at three pounds. My auspicious appearance was commemorated by two endearing comments. One by my Grandfather (whom later I called " Ga Ga ") who said upon seeing me for the first time, "he looks like a fresh red skinned squirrel". And he spoke out of experience; he had shot and cleaned his share. Luckily after his words, I didn't acquire the nickname, "Here comes Squirrelly." The second accolade came from one of the Nurses who helped in the delivery. "He's (referring to me) no bigger than a cricket" No one asked at the time but surely she was from Texas , where everything is 'bigger than big'. Hoosier crickets don't get that big. Least ways, I had never seen one.

Caesarean births in the early 20th.Century were not that common in the rural areas. The odds for living were on the downside. But odds or no odds, the "Will of Life" had been imprinted on a very tiny new born that magic day of days.The "Breath of Life" was not to be denied.

Much later I learned that my Father and Grandparents to be were told by the attending Physician that my lungs and respiratory system had not reached their full development. And that this might cause respiratory problems later in my life. He went on to say, that due to the lack of development, my lungs could collapse which would be fatal.

At this point my Grandmother said; "if there is a chance that he could die, it will not be in the Hospital, but at home." Words were exchanged between the Doctor and Grandmother both arguing from their respective corners. And the winner was, the little white-haired Grandmother from Putnam County . I was covered with a sea of cotton and then wrapped up "like a piggy in a blanket". And away we went via an ambulance. My mother had complications and was put in the Intensive Care Ward.

Upon arrival it was decided that part of the kitchen would be turned into a nursery. The kitchen was the largest square footage in the farmhouse and the warmest. My Grandfather and my two Uncles quickly went about constructing my own tanning salon. A little incubator similar to the ones used for hatching little baby chicks. The heat was supplied by a series of reflectors and incandescent lamps. (A bit of Yankee knows how"). Upon completion, I was slicked down with olive oil like a leaf of Romaine lettuce, then swaddled in cotton and placed inside my new home for the next several months.

Routine feedings were prepared from an old milk formula that had been handed down from a lineage of Mothers and Grandmothers. Its ingredients were as 'hush', 'hush' as 'Colonel Sanders' Kentucky Fried Chicken' recipe. I was fed with an eye dropper (you see I had a "wee" mouth, a little bit bigger than a cricket's mouth). The fresh formula of cows' milk with its' added ingredients was a direct feed from the "udder" to my waiting mouth. No pasteurizing or homogenizing. And it was delivered with "tender loving care" To borrow a phrase from the story of "Goldilocks and The Three bears". "It was just right" (there was no udder) Just having a little fun folks! Spoiled? Pampered? I was probably one of the most pampered, watched over and asked about baby in the farm community. My Grandmother and two Aunts monitored me for the first two months of my young life on a twenty-four hour schedule. After my Mother recovered, she joined the trio of my Florence Nightingale staff. I had a lot of sideline cheerleaders.

Allow me a detour, but only momentarily. During my early formative years and even before conception, I was read to; first by my Mother while I was comfortably resting in my private sleeping bag prior to my being lifted out and put on display for all to see. Afterwards my Grandmother and Aunts continued to read to me up through the first year. My Mother after she was released from the Hospital joined the Reading Club. What was read; I'm not exactly sure but an educated guess would be that my Mother and Aunts read the current Children's stories (Aesop Fables, Hans Christian Anderson Collection of Nursery Rhymes, Grimes' Fairy Tales) while my Grandmother tutored me, with a Biblical Baptist running commentary about the co-habituating of Adam and Eve, Noah and his Floating Circus of two by two and the parting of the Red Sea without the help of Cecil B. and Mr. Heston.

My Mother and Grandmother seldom agreed on anything. If the Moon was discussed as to its' color, one would say red and the other would say green. But oddly enough they did agree and believed that reading to a child before his/her birth and after, was beneficial in the nurturing and education of the child. Both were ahead of their time. For the experts of today agree to the validity of this practice. (But as they do say; "there is nothing new under the sun"). The Spartan Mothers used to talk to their baby sons while they slept, about the great Spartan Warriors and their heroics. This reading to me continued on up to three years of age. After that I did the reading with a little help from the giants, when it came to those big words. I would read to anyone wither they listened or not. The cats, dog, moo, moos, the 'quacks, quacks', the 'clucks, clucks' and even the horses, they all got an earful. If there was no one to read too, I would read out loud to myself.

Because of my reading and asking about the big words, "why" became my favourite word. My Uncle Harrison gave me a new nickname the "Why Boy". I was a regular walking 'Question Box'. If I got to persistent asking my Grandmother "why", she would say: young man, "curiosity is what killed the cat". I never knew 'what in Sam hill' that meant for a long time. I knew what curiosity meant. But why it killed the cat was beyond me. All the farm cats' nine lives were intact.

The foresight of my elders caused me to be an accomplished reader. By five years of age, I was reading my Grandfather's National Geographic, my favourite all time magazine. My Grandfather never tired of me asking how to pronounce a certain word and its' meaning. One of my show business tricks that got a chuckle was to pick-up the newspaper and act like I was giving the news on Radio. If I didn't know a certain word I would just make one up and go right on 'lickity split.' What came out got the laugh. When friends of the family would visit, my Grandfather would say; "do the News Harry Lee"I would get a spoon and use it for a microphone and go into my "Lowell Thomas" act. I should have charged admission.

Even before I could read the N.G., I loved looking at the beautiful pictures of all those far away places with their strange sounding names.But there were certain rules that were to be followed if I wanted to look at or read this Special Magazine. I was to make sure my hands were clean. It was to be read in the parlour in a chair not on the floor. And I was to be very careful in turning the pages, so as not to damage them.

One day while reading the N.G., I decided I wanted a peanut butter and jam sandwich. So I took the magazine with me into the kitchen and laid it down on the kitchen table and proceeded to fix myself a sandwich. While I was eating and reading, a big glob of blueberry jam fell smack dab in the middle of the page covering the face of somebody who suddenly became a nobody. I tried to clean it but it only made it worse. What to do? Well, I buried that copy among some back issues. And I didn't,say a word about it.

Three or four days passed, my Grandfather said nothing. Saturday came around, the day we were going into Greencastle. A day I always looked forward too. We piled into the Ford Truck and drove to Greencastle, I was elated. Grandfather and Grandmother had their things to do. And I had my thing to do which was going to the Movies. When we arrived, we all got out. Grandfather told Grandmother to go on ahead, he would catch up. He turned to me and said;"and what are you going to do?" I said: "go to the Movie." Do you have any money?" "No", I replied. He looked at me straight in the eye and said; "when were you going to tell me about the National Geographic"? I hemmed and hawed, breaking eye contact which was a "no" "no" when speaking to him. He continued; "only a coward when he does something wrong will lie about it or try to hide it. Do I have a grandson that's a coward?" "No Sir" I started to cry and he said; crying will not do any good. What do you have to say"? I finally got the words out of my mouth. "I am sorry: I will not do that again, I promise." He smiled, here's two dimes go to the movies.

I haven't thought of that incident for a long, long time but it is, as if it were yesterday. Ga Ga ' was a man that told it like it was, he could be as tough as nails and unyielding but he was always fair.

There I go again, getting ahead of myself. Let's backup;

Long before, but not to long before I was so abruptly removed from my warm watery sleeping cocoon which was attached to someone I would later call "Mother. A full June, Moon, Love affair burst upon the scene that involved my soon to be parents, a 'mummy and daddy and baby makes three "twiddle dum, twiddle dee". The boy was twenty and the girl eighteen going on twenty three if, you know what I mean ("ooh! la, la.") Neither her parents nor his parents were dancing a jig or singing; "Get to me the Church on time" over this whirlwind romance. Well the stars fell out of the sky and a lot of those little hormones started to do the "bunny-hop", up, down and all around reaching Mach speed. The Sound Barrier was broken. And guess what? You guessed it, Martha was with child. And Lloyd, well he became an instant Father, faster than "Instant Soup" becomes instant. And little old me was on my way to "old Broadway", no the wrong words It's my computer just trying to have a little fun, folks! Where was I? I was on my way to becoming a Special Delivery surprise package, increasing the population of Putnam County .

Lloyd was the youngest of the three sons of the McGinnis Clan. Martha was the younger of the two daughters of the Glidewell family, the apple of her Father's eye. Faster than you can say: "Peter Piper picked a ..." The love birds were quickly married because the Bun (that's me) in the oven was about ready to be taken out and I do mean out! I was already, knocking at the door so to speak. If there had been a zipper I could have been at the Wedding Reception.

Both parents somehow weathered the storm of the "Whispering Campaign" and the five and six party lines of the 'Ring-a-ding-ding Marathon ' that was melting the Telephone lines between Fillmore and Greencastle. (Have you heard.... did you know?). Into this Cauldron of wagging tongues; a little 'Spice' was added to this "brew ha, ha! by my Grandmother. She was convinced that this red-headed vixen, that was one of her nicer words for my Mother, had laid a "tender trap" and snared her favourite son by getting pregnant. To thicken the pot, it was rumoured, so she said; that this siren had had other torrid love affairs and possibly an abortion. This all pre-dated the age of "Soap Operas" even before "Stella Dallas" and "One Man's Family" made their debut on Radio. The topper to all this; my Mother and Father ended up moving in to live with his parents. Which was not the most conducive of circumstances under the circumstances, if you know what I mean? In fact it was an act of sheer insanity.

After the delivery my Mother remained in the hospital because of complications. One being, she had an ovarian infection that precipitated the need for the Caesarean delivery. During her stay they decided that she needed a hysterectomy sans I became an only child. Her recovery was slow and tedious. Between her recovery and my situation it was a trying time for all concerned. Except for me, I was pampered all over the place. Before continuing on, let's take a breather and go to something a little bit lighter. Like 'Mac Arthur', I promise " I shall return" to the shores of despair, mal-contentment and resentment, all the trials and tribulations of a summer re-run of "How Are You Going to Keep Them down On the Farm.........After the divorce.

I had mentioned earlier about being an early talker and walker. It was said; that my early steps were not really steps. I ran everywhere, when I was not running I was skipping, jumping and hopping. Strange words began to surface about my manner of movement; words such as; a jumping jack, a Mexican jumping bean, a wiggle-worm and a jack-in-the-box. One day, someone asked Grandfather: "where does your grandson get all that energy? He never sits still for one minute". "Well" said my Grandfather, "every morning I scoop up a hand full of ants and slip them in to his pants' pocket".

There were those days as a toddler when I just couldn't resist being the "Masked Menace" of the barnyard. My very favourite 'Chase' was with my arms out stretched like an airplane. I would zero in on an unsuspecting chicken pretending I was the pilot in a "dive bomber". After I had circled the field several times and scared the feathers of off four or five of the fleeing enemy. It was time to come in for a landing and have a couple of shots at the Bar. The table, I mean, of my Grandmother's 'Extra Special' Lemonade and a large side order of freshly baked Chocolate Chip cookies, the Houses' Specialty.

But one day, just as the fog was lifting the "Masked Menace" took to the sky, unaware of his fate that day. The famous "Herr von Cock-a-doodle doo", the 'Scourge' of the airways, known by his friends and admirers as the "The Big Red Baron" had circled the field twice unnoticed and was hiding behind the drifting fog. The stage was set; the "Chase" was on. But that day M.M became the chas-ee. The "Red Baron" had dropped out from behind the fog and was hot on the tail of the "Masked Menace" and closing fast, closer and closer. M.M. was out gunned and out ran, losing ground fast. The "Red Baron" was lined up for the kill. It was "certain curtains" for M.M. But suddenly like a lighting bolt out of the blue came the "Flying Grandma" with her Blazing Broom sweeping the air as she swooped down on "Big Red". He was no match for the swinging Veteran. Big Red lost the battle and limped away, battered and bowed. He had tried his best moves but his best was not good enough that day.

Several days after my harrowing escape, I believe it was on a Sunday, yes, Sunday. The Preacher, that's what they do say "Preacher", came to dinner. Big Red appeared again but it was "Taps" for him. He was served up on a big white platter. He was resting on a mound of fresh roasted yellow corn, his favourite food. As the prayer was offered by the Preacher, I thought to myself, he was a tough old bird. "No" not the Preacher, Big Red. It was "bye, bye birdie". The young chicks would surely miss him. But when the new 'Cock of the Walk' arrived, he strutted across the barnyard so the young and the old could see what a fine fellow he was. The widows of the roost mourned no more. He was a real flapper-dapper, so much so; that it wasn't to long before the lady chicks were looking for a bushel basket to hide under.

The rest of the farm animals (the pigs, cows, horses, ducks and cats) became my friends. I talked to them and always wondered if they understood anything I ever said. But there was one animal, I was sure he understood. His name was Shep, we were the best of friends, all though it took a little time. Shep's pedigree was questionable; he was part Collie, a little more German shepherd, a bit of this and a more of that. Shep had been on the scene a few years prior to my arrival. He was Grandfather's dog. Wherever " Ga , Ga " went ( I never got the word Grandfather untwisted from around my tongue) Shep was sure to follow. At first Shep ignored me, he tolerated me when I would tug on him or try to ride him. Otherwise he stayed his distance

One day, I was around five; I wandered into the woods to pick some blue berries that my Grandmother and I had found. I had just started to pick some and from out of "no where"; an ugly big black, burly dog suddenly appeared. He was unfamiliar to me, most of the neighbouring dogs I knew. But this one didn't look like, if you said; roll over and play dead" that your wish would be his command. Rather his look was more like, "I've gotcha, your mine, yum, yum". I turned and took two steps and a leap. I was perched in the bough of a tree and five feet below me was a snarling, snapping dog, which I was dead sure, was going to eat me alive. I started yelling, yelling and some more yelling. And quicker than you can say; "Holy Molley" there was Shep in mid-air. The fight was on and I had a ringside ticket. Two masses of "fur and fury" whirled beneath me. I was still screaming, then suddenly the sounds of "fang and fury" ceased. The big black dog laid lifeless on the ground and Shep was down, bleeding badly. I climbed down out of the tree and ran as fast as my little legs could motor, back towards the farmhouse to get help. As I cleared the edge of the woods my Grandfather was running towards me. He had his twelve gauge shotgun in his hands. I blurted out " that Shep was down and hurt bad." He told me to go back to the house.

A little later he returned carrying Shep in his arms like a little baby. Shep weighed a little over 100 lbs . He took Shep into the barn to patch-up his wounds. I watched as the wounds were washed and treated, listening to Grandfather talking to Shep. The rest of that month I slept in the barn with Shep on a pallet my Grandmother had fixed for me. Everyday I brought food and water until he recovered. Before falling to sleep, Shep and I would talk, I pretended that he answered me, because I knew he understood.

During Sheps' convalescence the Veterinarian paid a visit to the farm to give Shep a Rabies shot and pick up the head of the vanquished big black dog which my Grandfather had severed earlier after the battle, so the Vet. could test it for Rabies. As Shep was recovering, we became the best of friends. Soon he was back to being his old self again. He was my partner in all I did in my make believe world. We would walk in the jungle, sail ships to far away places, and fight the pirates on the high seas and the bad guys of the Wild, Wild West. And take on the Martians with Flash Gordon (Buster Crabbe). Making camp; building some make shift tents in all the fantasy places. Our two favourite stomping grounds was the Barn and a little Creek where we would go on a pretended "sea voyage" and explore an uncharted Island where hostile natives lived.

The Barn was our Fort, our Castle and our Tree House in the Jungle. I had tied (well I had one of the giants to ...) two big ropes to the roof rafters: one was for swinging from one hay loft across a wide space to the hay loft on the other side of the barn. The other rope was an escape rope for when Shep and I were under attack from the Pirates or the Natives. It was attached to a large wooden beam outside the loft window that was used during the haying season to bring the hay up into the loft from the Hay Wagon. Under attack, I would jump out the window and catch hold of the rope and slid down to the ground. Shep would have to use the steps. We spent hours and hours in the barn. I loved to swing "a la Tarzan " back and forth between the lofts. Shep would watch for a while as I sailed back and forth but finally he would give up and lay down. Only now and then would he raise his head to see if I was still there.

When the ropes were put up, my Grandfather never told Grandmother and he told me when I was through to make sure the ropes were secured so Grandmother could not see them which I always did. But one day I had just leaped out of the loft window. Shep and I had just been under attack by the pirates. My Grandmother rounded the corner about to enter the barn. Shep bounded out of the entrance at full speed barking his head off almost knocking Grandmother off her feet. She saw Shep standing near the end of the barn still barking, she had yet to see me. She yelled at Shep, he paid no attention, he was looking up at me. She didn't have her glasses on (praise be). Grandfather came out the back porch door to see what all the commotion was about, he saw me dangling in mid-air on the rope, he had helped me to secure for my jump-off. He saw Grandmother walking towards Shep. He called Shep, Shep stop barking and ran towards him. Grandmother turned and went into the barn. I dropped to the ground. Shep came running and we both took off for the woods.

The Barn also had our secret hiding place. No one knew about it expect Shep and I. Most of the time it was Grandmother looking for us; a piece of pie was missing. If we were in our secret room and she entered the Barn, I would tell Shep to be real quiet. She never discovered us. About the pie; sometimes we would sneak into the kitchen and discover a lonely piece of pie just sitting there begging to be taken.So Shep and I would honour the request and take it back to our hiding place and have a snack. Shep really developed an apple pie weakness. Although come to think about it, he never turned down a piece of any of the other pies. It was days like this and all the other days of playing with Shep that fueled my active imagination and wonder about all and everything.

Saturdays on the farm was usually a travelling day. Sometimes to Fillmore to visit or to Greencastle to shop and pick up needed supplies. But before we get to the particulars of Saturday, we need to back up one day to Friday. Friday night was one of my least favourite nights. Between one and ten, it rated a zero. It was "rub a dub, dub night, one boy in the tub night" with the Warden (Grandmother)standing watch as she delivered the lye soap, brush and towel. Now, I don't know if you have ever been scrubbed with"a real to goodness" thick bristled brush and lye soap. Well it's not apicnic or a stroll in the park.After the "rub a dub in the tub", the warden with her Magnifying Glass held inspection time. The ears and toes were the prime suspects. After I passed inspection it was off to beddy-bye because the next day was Saturday, my favorite day of days.

The Fillmore Saturdays was a day for visiting my Uncles and Aunts, Nephew and Niece. My Uncle Ray and his wife had a son and daughter. Charlie was Three years my senior (eight)and his sister was my age (five). On one of the visits, Charlie told me he was interested in girls and that he had a girlfriend. I couldn't understand how anyone could be interested in girls. They didn't hunt or fish or play ball. And they liked taking baths. How could you like taking a bath? And their hands were always clean. And they smelled like a rose bush, "aaagh!" They were indeed strange. I remembered telling Charlie that when I got older I wouldn't be interested in girls, never. But as they do say, "never say never".

Because I remember as I got older about six, I enjoyed playing doctor and patient. One day my curiosity "peeked", no, I didn't spell it wrong and "yes" I know it can be spelled "peaked". But I did peek and I did touch and the patient ran out of my office and told her Mother and my Grandmother. Later I received my first sex lecture. And was told and I do mean told by my Grandmother (who could quote the Bible, Chapter and Verse) that my behaviour was not acceptable, 'no sir-ree Bob'. It was a "no, no". No look-ee, look-ee and certainly no touch-ee, touch-ee. She made me promise that I would not transgress again. And that God was watching me. I didn't quite understand how He could watch everybody. A little later I overheard my Father and Grandfather talking about my exploratory adventure. I only got bits and pieces of the conversation but it seemed that they were not as adamant about the incident as Grandmother. In fact there was a chuckle or two here and there which meant I was not going to be put on a 'bread and water' diet or sleep on a 'bed of nails'.

Back to the Fillmore Saturday outings:

Usually we switched back and forth: one Saturday we would have the noon meal at Uncle Ray's home, the next Saturday at Uncle Harrison's. Speaking of Uncle Harrison: I inherited the name 'Harry' from him. Harry comes from Harrison My middle name 'Lee' came from a Great Grandfather on my Mother's side of the family. Lee comes from Leonard (Leo). Where was I? Oh, yes! The noon meals were special at both of my Uncles' homes. Each of their wives were excellent makers of pies and cakes. And both Uncles made special kinds of ice cream. Sometimes with different kinds of fruit mixed in or chunks of chocolate. It was yummy, yum time! And the ice cream was made with a new fangled ice cream maker that you didn't have to wear your arm in a sling the next day. You just plugged it in, no cranking necessary.

Now our Saturday outings to Greencastle were "a horse of a different colour". Fillmore was a 'hoot and a holler' away from the farm, whereas Greencastle was three or four 'hoot and hollers 'away. Not only was Greencastle the County Seat of Putnam County, it was bigger and busier than Fillmore. There were Larger Feed Stores, Livery Stables, a bigger Post Office, a University (Depew). But my favourite building was the Movie House, a real to goodness Movie Theatre. Each Saturday the Movie started at 12:45 PM. And when we visited Greencastle, I was in the second row waiting for the curtain to open. My Grandfather always gave me two dimes, one for the ticket and the other for candy and popcorn. Twenty cents was a lot of money in the early1900's, you could buy a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk or two gallons of gasoline. I mentioned that I always sat in the second row in the Movie Theatre. For a long time, many years later I learned that the people in Hollywood weren't as odd looking as I thought they were with their big noses, big mouths, big heads and bodies all out of shape at times. Also, they didn't talk as loud.

When the Curtain opened, the first thing to appear on the Screen was the 'Movie Tone News' or the 'Pathe News' Followed by the 'March of Time' Narrated by 'Lowell Thomas'. Then came a Short Comedy: with"Joe Doaks, Behind the Eight Ball" or some other Comedy Skit with (Leon Errol or Edgar Kennedy). Maybe the 'Three Stooges" or "Our Gang" Then the Curtain would close and when it opened again , the Main Feature came on. Sometimes Cowboy Movies with (Tom Mix, Buck Jones, Lash La Rue , Hop A Long Cassidy, Bill Elliot, or the Cisco Kid.) maybe a Pirate movie or A Mystery movie. And let's not forget the Tarzan Movies, my favourite. After the main feature was through then came the Cartoon ( Felix The Cat, Popeye or Mickey Mouse and Pluto) Then, what every kid had been waiting for all week, the ongoing Saturday Afternoon Serial with its' 'cliff hanging' endings which brought you back each Saturday to see if the hero escape his almost certain doom the week before. Like, 'Flash Gordon ( Buster Crabbe) And The Martians'. Each week, Flash Gordon escaped the most impossible impending disasters that were certain to spell his doom. But like all the Heroes of the Saturday Afternoon Serials, he was saved just in the nick of time. To live and fight, yet another day against the Evil forces of the World. Such was the life of the Hero, who ever he might be or where ever he might be.

Sorry for the aside:

As long as we are on the subject of Saturday trips; I need to talk about a Special Surprise Trip. One Friday night while I was "rub-a-dub" scrubbing, my Grandmother told me that we would be leaving a little bit earlier come Saturday morning. We were going on a special visit. I ask; where? Her reply was" You will have to wait and see". I couldn't fall asleep that night from thinking about where we might be going. Maybe to Indianapolis or Terra Haute, but why were we going? When morning came I was up and dressed waiting to hear; "Harry Lee, it is time to get up". Shep and I were down the stairs, bounding into the kitchen. "Land of goshens!" did you sleep in you clothes last night, son." "No!" just excited and made sure I would be ready on time". After breakfast, we piled into the Ford and away we went. The road was not familiar. I tried to find out where we were going but both Grandparents acted as though they had a banana in each ear. In fact my Grandfather said; turning to grandmother, "did you hear an echo?" I am sure I heard a voice". "Did you hear a voice Harry Lee?" "Sure did, it was me". "Sally, did you hear Harry Lee?" "No, is he here?" "Come on, both of you are fool' in with me." "Okay! said Grandfather, we are going to Evansville ". ( Evansville was the second largest City in Indiana ), I had never been there before.) Not too far outside the City the traffic was increasing. Small Stores started showing up along the way. Grandfather said in another ten minutes or so, we would be in the centre of town. Then a big overhead arch came in view; "Welcome to Evansville ".

Well, it was big, big compared with Fillmore and Greencastle and with so many cars and stores. We pulled up in front of a big Church that had some statues out in front. One of the statues had a person stuck to it. I asked Grandfather, and he said that it was a Catholic Statue and that the Church was a Catholic Church. I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about. Grandmother was silent all this time. Suddenly, she said; "the people who go this Church are Idol Worshipers; they have Statues all over, outside, and inside the Church. They're heathens!" Again, I didn't know what all the words meant. Finally Grandfather said; "now Sally, that's enough the boy doesn't understand. Let's drop it." Well, we got out of the Truck and started heading towards a huge store. The Store was the "Sears and Roebuck Catalogue Store", over the entrance to the Store there was a sign that read; "Welcome to Evansvilles' "Wishing Well Store" (It was the sixth Sears and Roebuck Store in America, built in 1925) It was that and much, much more. Most of the time my mouth was "open", I had that farm boy look and the words to go with it. Like "golly" and fifty or more "golly'es". And when we got to the "Toy World" floor, I was out of "gollyes". The new word was "gee whiz". I had never seen so many toys gathered together in one place. If I could have I would have stay there; as they do say on the farm, "Until the cows come home". The sign was right it was indeed a "Wishing Store" What a day! What a day! My first visit to a "Sears and Roebuck Store"

Wishes do come true on those special days; Birthdays, Anniversaries, Graduations, Valentine Days Easter and Christmas. And even those plain old days when someone just decides to give a Gift to that special person.

For me 'Sears and Roebuck'(which is now called just 'Sears') was the biggest, the grandest Store in the whole wide World. I could have spent all day just wandering around like a lost lamb. It truly was a 'Wonderland', so many things to see. On each floor I would see, what I had never seen before, much of what I saw, I didn't even know the' name or what it was for.

The icing on the cake was when my Grandfather stood in a long line to get the new "Wish book", the "Sears and Roebuck Catalogue". The Catalogue had pictures of everything under the roof of the Wonder Store. And if they didn't have it in stock, you could order it and it would be mailed or shipped to you. It was an A to Z Store. You could even order a Model T Ford car or truck (cost about $600.00 to $800.00) the year of my birth, the Ford Automobile Company production of the Model T reached 15 million. Mr Ford surelydidn't have to worry about the price ofhis next cup of coffee, that's if he drank coffee.

No one will ever know; how many families across America spent their time thumbing through the pages of this wish book for that special something. In the early years of the 20th.Century the "Sears and Roebuck Catalogue" was in more Farmland homes than the 'Farmers' Almanac', second only to the 'Bible' to be found on a table in the Parlour or on a table in the kitchen. And last years' edition could be found in the two seaters about fifty steps out back, past the corn shed.

Well, as I promised let's return to the 'Shores of Heartaches' and those trying times that reached Number one on the 'Misery Charts'. To resurrect the unpleasant that has been buried and dead for such a long, long time is not my favourite pastime. Nor am I overjoyed with the prospect of remembering the needless negative sides and the frailty of 'Human Nature'.

Nevertheless, here goes!

One day my Mother came up to my room to wake me up and said that we were going to Greencastle as soon as I got dressed. She picked out the clothes I was to wear. They were my 'Sunday go to meeting clothes' but it wasn't Sunday. She helped me get ready and finished with combing my hair. Then we went downstairs. Her Father was outside, waiting for us in the car. On the way to Greencastle, my Mother's Father asked: "If I would like to stay at his house for awhile. I asked Mother if that would be alright. When I would visit him, he would let me play the 'Player Piano'. in the parlor.There were so many tunes to pick from; sometimes I would play for a couple of hours.

We got into Greencastle and pulled up in front of a big building with a lot of steps. As we got out another car pulled up and a man, I had never seen before got out and started walking towards us. My Mother and her Father talked to him as we walked up the steps of the big building. When we entered, I saw my two Uncles and their wives. I started to run over and talk to them but my Mother held on to me and said, "No". And I didn't know why? Shortly afterwards, my Grandfather, Grandmother and my Father entered with another man. I asked if I could go over and say "hello" again another "no".

Just then a big door opened and everybody filed in to a very large room with a lot of seats. Everybody got seated and three new people entered the room from a door towards the front of the room beside a big desk. One was a man wearing a black robe like the Preacher sometimes wore. Following him was a lady who took a seat at a small table in front of the big desk. The third person looks like he had on some sort of a uniform. After the man in the black robe was seated, the uniformed man said "will all rise. The Honourable Judge "Somebody" will preside. "Please be seated now!" The man in black banged what looked like a hammer on the big desk and said:" This Court is now in session"

My Mother's victory in winning the Divorce Settlement and my Custody was a bittersweet victory. The aftershock of the loss and separation caused a fallout of despair and disappointment for my Grandparents and my Father. But for my Grandmother the Courts' decision was especially devastating. Out of the hurt and pain, the contempt and scorn she had for my Mother increased tenfold that day. She fervently believed her ex-daughter-in-law had stolen her Grandson away, as she had stolen the heart of her son. What do they say about a womans' scorn? Something to the effect; "never underestimate it".

Well it had been underestimated, Eight months from the date that my Mother was awarded Custody of me. It was back to Court again. The players were the same, the setting was the same but the results were to be different. The Lawyer for my Grandfather had been a "busy little bee"; charges for child neglect had been filed. In effect that my Mother was living with a man which she was not married too. And that her life style was determental and inappropriate for my well being. During the trial; witnesses came forth to testify about the wild drinking parties, where the Police had to be called. Also photographs taken by a Detective Agency which my Grandfather had hired were introduced as evidence to collaborate some of the witnesses' testimonies.

The conclusion of it all; the Court ruled in favour of my Grandparents and the "ping pong" ball (that's me) returned to the farm.

The Court had awarded my Mother visiting privileges and a two weeks stay during the summers. At first my Mother visited monthly and the first summer I spent two weeks in Indianapolis and it was great. I did so many new and different things but there were complications. The monthly visits to the farm to pick me up usually ended up in a verbal battle between my Grandmother and my Mother. Words were said that should have never been said in my presence. Some of the words I had heard before and after the Courts' hearing. Also I had overheard my Grandmothers' wrath directed at my Mother, when she was on the phone or in conversations with some of her friends. They do say; (little pitchers have big ears). I guess mine were exceptionally big.

Let me backtrack in time for a moment to my first summer visit to Indianapolis . As I mentioned, there were so many new things to see and do. I saw my first "Barnum and Bailey Ringling Bro's" Circus. My very first trip to the Riverside Amusement Park " with all the rides; the Merry-Go-Round, the Ferris wheel and the "Roller Coaster", the boat ride through the "Tunnel of Horrors", The "Crazy Mirror House". And let's not forget, the Cotton Candy and the Hot Dogs. Also the 'Big (stuffed) Mickey Mouse' the man with my Mother won for me.

I visited the Zoo, went to the Movies in a big, big Theatre and saw a Stage Show with dancers, jugglers, trained dogs and even a Magician. We had lunch and sometimes dinner in big Restaurants. Afterwards shopping with My Mother to buy some new clothes. Everything was great! Then the "roof fell in".

My Father and Grandmother showed up at my Mother's apartment without any notice one day. I had just gotten up from a nap. My Mother had gone out to do some shopping. The man, my Mother was living with and another lady was in the apartment alone when the door bell rang. The young lady opened the door and guess who? Father and my Grandmother. The young lady didn't know who they were and they didn't know who she was. Grandmother asked if this was where Martha Glidewell lived and the young lady said "yes" but she wasn't home at the moment. My Mother's boyfriend went to the door and asked who they were and what they wanted? My Grandmother asked "who he"? and where was Martha? "You were told she is not here". The tone of his reply was not acceptable to my Grandmother.

Let's run the clock back just a little. When the door bell rang, I jump out of bed and started running down the hall towards the door to see who it was. The young lady came out of the other bedroom, stopped me and said; "go back to your room and shut the door" which I did. I heard muffled voices but I could not understand what was being said or by who. Then shortly, I heard my name called then I knew it was Grandmother. I came out of the bedroom and ran into the living room. There was Grandmother, Father, the young lady and the boyfriend. The young lady was in her bra and panties. And the man was standing there in his underwear. Grandmother was slowly turning red from the neck up. Like a rising thermometer ready to explode which it did. She was telling the man and the lady a "what for" in no uncertain terms. A real live "Here comes the Judge with the judgement" with a rapier tongue delivery.

The door bell rang. Round one was over but round two was about to begin. In walks my Mother with an arm full of groceries. Words, many words flew back and forth. The voice levels ranged from loud to loud. Sparks were flying and eyes were flashing, accusations and counter accusations. Every once an awhile, the words Jezebel, Hussy, Harlot and Slut surfaced. I was there but not there, I had become invisible during the fray. Suddenly, I yelled at the top of my lungs. I became visible, I ran to my Mother, crying as I ran. A hush fell along with the words. There was only silence.

That day died slowly and painfully but it was finally buried down deep, very deep. Others were to follow. Nor did I know that this "Black Day" would rise from its burial place in the future.

After that first tragic summer visit my Mother's monthly visitations stopped as did any summer visits. I never knew the reasons why, until several years later. But my Mother's decision was all that my Grandmother needed to strengthen her constant barrage of remarks about my mother's lifestyle and her character. Later, I will return and write about my Mother and our relationship down through the years, the good and the not so good.

Let's return to the days between my fourth and seventh birthday. Around the age of four was the beginning of my helping around the farm. I had specific daily chores to do. Like feeding the chickens and the ducks, making sure that they had plenty of water. After the the collecting of their eggs, I brought in the wood from the wood pile. for the big iron kitchen stove, the potbelly stove in the parlor and the fireplace

Now and then, I would tend to the big compost pile used for fertilizing Grandmother's prize rose bushes. Feeding the chickens and the ducks was an easy task. But the collecting of the eggs from the hen house started out with a few problems. The hens had their nests higher than my reachw which meant I had to get a little stool to stand on to get the eggs. Now if the hens had left their nests in the morning and the eggs were just laying there waiting for me to put them in my basket, no problem. But the problem came when a sitting hen didn't want to be disturbed. Now we have a situation. Especially when you are only knee-high to a grasshopper (cricket that is) and the mamma hen has gotten up on the wrong side of the nest. You are in deep, deep trouble, yes, you are

My first bout with a stubborn 'cluck, cluck' ended in an embracing disaster. Early one morning my Grandmother needed some fresh eggs. Foolish I said; I'll go get some. With my little basket in hand, I entered the hen house and started collecting some eggs. I had collected about ten or so and was on my way out the door when I noticed a very large nest occupied by a very large pile of feathers that was clucking away. I got my stool and placed it in front of the nest. I climbed up and was 'eyeball to eyeball' with a big squawking mamma hen. The minute I put my hand into the nest grabbing for an egg, she took off like a 747 and circled the roost. The stool was wobbling, I was wobbling and then she landed on top of my head with her clawed landing gear. I let out a "whoop and a hollar" that would have raised the dead. As I fell backwards, the collected eggs were launched and orbiting just above me as I landed on my backsides. Just then my Grandfather rushed into the hen house, the orbiting eggs came in for a soft landing, all over me. My Grandfather burst into a chorus of booming laughter. The audience increased as my Grandmother appeared and the laughter became a duet. And then Shep appeared, if he had made it a trio. I would have thrown the one remaining egg that had not broken at him. To say the least I was not a "happy camper". From that day on as I collected the eggs, I carried a little stick. If a hen was stubborn, I would give it a slight nudge and a tap on the beck after that no problem.

My Grandfather told that story about the "Egg Caper", at least a hundred times or more always ending up by clapping his hands. I never knew if he was applauding his skill of story telling or my performance as an egg collector. His quaint final line was; the "yolk was on Harry Lee". 'Henny Youngman' would have no doubt enjoyed that one liner. For the uninitated, Mr. Youngman was the King of the one liners' comedy. One of his favorite one liner was; "Who was that woman I saw you with last night. And he would reply; "that was no woman that was my wife".

After feeding all the feathered friends in the early part of the morning and I do mean early; the farm day started at five in the morning. The first one to stir, was my Grandmother. She would be in the kitchen firing up the big iron stove and starting breakfast preparations. Next one up was Grandfather then my Father with myself bringing up the rear around 6:30 am. But before I arrived on the scene, my two Uncles had arrived and joined my Grandfather and Father in the milking shed. My bedroom was up a stair step ladder into the attic which had a finished floor and plenty of room. My bed and shif-robe that held all my clothes had a partitioned off space to the front of the farmhouse with a big window looking out across the farm. My buddy "Shep" shared the bedroom with me; he slept at the foot of the bed. Each morning I heard the morning crew getting up and when my Uncles arrived for the morning milking. On a cold winter morning it was difficult climbing out from under a big feathered comforter to scurry down to the kitchen that was nice and warm. But awaiting me was a big cup of hot chocolate with a marshmallow floating on top. After I had finished drinking the chocolate I would go and feed the chickens and the ducks. Sometimes I would go into the milking shed where the cows were being relieved of their bounty. Grandfather would say; "open your mouth Harry Lee", he would then squirt some warm milk into my mouth straight from the udder, his aim was 'right on the money'.

After the earlier chores were finished it was breakfast time (about 7:30 am.). Now breakfast time on the farm was the most important meal of the day. You haven't had a breakfast until you have sat down to a home cooked morning spread on the farm. And I do mean a spread; sausages, ham and bacon, eggs, (fried, scrambled or boiled), hot biscuits with milk gravy with bits of sausage sprinkled in, buttered pancakes with syrup, fried potatoes, cottage cheese mixed with sweet molasses. A meal fit for "Old King Cole". After the morning breakfast was finished and the table cleared. Morning chores resumed, my next chore was 'wood detail'

The wood shed was located along side of the barn where the chords of wood were all stacked. The sawing and the splitting of the wood into smaller sizes to fit the two stoves and the fireplace was done by the giants (Grandfather and sons). The saw, axe and hatchet was off limits for me. Of course when no one was looking I would sneak in a couple private whacks with the hatchet, now and then, hardly denting the wood log. When I saw the giants do it, the axe or the hatchet would sink deep into the wood and the chips would fly. When I did it , the hatchet would keep bouncing out. I wouldn't have been mistaken for Paul Bunyan or any other woodsman. I used the Stagecoach to haul the wood up to the back porch. It really wasn't a Stagecoach it was my wagon. When Shep and I would play cowboy and outlaws, the wagon became a Stagecoach. You know like the pumpkin in the Cinderella Story became the Coach. Shep and I bypassed the Fairy-godmother. Well anyway I would pile a half dozen small chunks of wood into the wagon. Then Shep and I would haul the wood to the back door. Then Shep would lay down and wait for me to unload the wagon. I think it was against the doggie union to go beyond the hauling. After the three wood boxes were filled which took a trillion steps or so it seemed. As they do say: " I was plum tuckered out" come noon.

In the Summer there was but one wood box to fill, the wood for the huge iron cast stove in the kitchen, my Grandmother's pride and joy. But come Winter when all three wood boxes had to be filled. I got some help from the giants I lived among. My Grandfather, Father and two Uncles were all over six feet tall, when they chipped in and helped it was "chop, chop", they filled the model T truck, drove it up to back porch door and filled upall the wood boxes in record time. Since I mentioned the four giants, my grandfather was the larger of all three sons and could work all three of them into the ground. Seldom would Grandfather take off his shirt during the day, except in the summer when he would take a trip to the well-pump to cool off. It was then you could see his well structured muscular definition. He was a man in his late eighties but his physical appearance said he was in his forties. No one could ever guess his age, his hair was only slightly grey and no sign of loss of hair. His strength could match any of his sons and more. Even Uncle Harrison who could pick up a hundred pound bail of hay and toss it into the back of the truck with little or no effort.

A story was told about an incident where a friend of Grandfather's got into an argument at a Feed store. He and his friend were talking to the owner. And in walks another man that started yelling obscenities at Grandfather's friend, falsely accusing him. The owner and my Grandfather tried to quiet the enraged man to no avail. Suddenly everything got out of hand and the man pulled out a pistol and at the same time "yelled: "you are all against me." He levelled the gun, my Grand father grabbed his wrist and broke every bone in the  man's wrist. The gun never fired. One of the feats Grandfather would do if ever you could get him to do it. He would take a silver dollar and bend it into a u-shape, His fingers were like steel.

I have mentioned the big cast iron stove in the kitchen several times. So let's talk about this Modern Marvel of the early 20th. Century. It took up a good part of one wall in the kitchen with its' chimney vent and wood box. It had a famous brand name ( which has momentarily left my mind) and it was the biggest Stove they made. You could load it with wood from both sides and also clean out the grating from both sides. The top was large enough to boil eight pots of water at one time. The oven was two tiered with removable shelves. With the shelves out it was big enough to roast a good size pig. Out of the mouth of that oven with the help of my Grandmother's culinary expertise came all the mouth watering yummy, yums. Delicious pies; (apple, cherry, peach, blueberry, rhubarb, pecan, walnut, pumpkin and mince meat). Apple Strudel, candied cover apples on a stick, doughnuts. Then all the cakes; (pound cake, angel food cakes, dark chocolate, white marble cake and cup cakes). And then this 'Great Horn of Plenty' Oven would offer up The Christmas and Thanksgiving Turkeys and Honeyed Hams with all the Seasons trimmings. The Wizard of the Kitchen was my Grandmother. She planned and cooked for all occasions and events. Every season had its' special foods.

The occasions were many and varied; there was the canning season that came in the Fall, along with the Spring slaughtering time of several annual pigs and a cow. There was the Wheat Harvesting Times, the Corn Shucking Bee's, The Barn Raisings, the Church Socials and the cooking preparation when the Annual County Fair happened. Let's say a few words about several of these events before we get to talking about Thanksgivings and Christmas, okay!

The 'Canning Season' after the Fall harvest was always a big event. As in the earlier history of the human species, the gathers and the hunters came together. Only now in the early 20th. century, the farmers, their wives and children replaced the 'gathers and the hunters'. The farming community came together in a co-op spirit moving from field to field, farmhouse to farmhouse in the harvesting and the preparation of storing food for the long winter ahead. Most every farm had their "root cellars" and their "smoke houses" that had to be filled to last out the winter months. Most root cellars were attached to the main farmhouse via an underground passage way to the underground cellar. Although some were situated apart from the farmhouse. This below the ground cellar, along with the freezing winter weather helped in the preserving of all the fruits and vegetables sealed in the hundreds of glass jars that lined the walls of this primitive " Refrigerator". (a note to be added) Since potatoes are as important to the native North American, as rice is to the Chinese. The American farmer would bury the harvested potatoes in huge mounds of dirt for the coming winter freezes, another primitive but an effective way of preserving food until needed.

The ladies of the community would come together during the harvesting of the wheat, the fruit and the vegetables. Moving from farm to farm to help in the gathering and the preparation of the food for the canning process. The famous brand of glass preserving jars were called; "Ball Jars". I would grab a couple to store my marbles in and my "Jacks," "Tidily-Winks" and one to keep the fireflies in.

Grandmother's kitchen would become a food processing plant; large pots to make the paraffin to seal in the contents of the jars, The sterilizing of the jars, the preparation of the veggies, the fruits. It was "chop, chop", "boil, boil " "cook, cook" time. Now, during all this busy bee stuff in the kitchen, the hunters, excuse me!, the husbands were as about as useless, as the "Wooden Indian" that stood outside the Feed Store. This season and the get together was a fun time for the children. We would play tag, blind mans' bluff, hide-in-seek, ring around the rosy, cowboys and Indians, have tug-a-wars, pitch washers or horse-shoes, dodge-ball, chase the girls and go down to the small creek and catch tadpoles and frogs. But our favorite of favourites was when dinner came (mid-day meal) along with the deserts brought in by all the wives.

After the dinner was cleared; sometimes there would be different contests and games; Burlap bag races, where two people would step into a large bag together and would race another couple by hopping together to the finish line. Usually it was with one adult and a young person together in the bag. And then there was the egg toss; two people would stand three feet apart and then toss an uncooked egg back and forth. After both had caught the egg at that distance, the distance was increased another three feet and the eggs were tossed again. The increasing and the catching went on until the eggs were broken or missed. The last couple who were the furtherest apart without breaking their egg won. There were also Horseshoe pitching contests, Arm Wrestling, Hay Bail tossing and Wood Chopping Contests.

I mentioned earlier about Uncle Harrison throwing bails of hay into the back end of the farm truck. Well during the Hay Bail throwing Contest for distance. Three men were still in the running, Uncle Harrison, a neighbouring farm hand and the man who had won it last year and the year before. Uncle Harrison threw first, the throw measured an extra two an a half inches. The farm hand made his throw, it landed a half of an inch shy of Uncle Harrison's throw. Last years' Champion stepped up to make his throw. He reached down and shouldered the bail behind his neck and hurled it into the air, you could have heard a pin drop as the bail dropped. The Judges ran out to measure. It was a tie. Both men just stared at each other. Each knowing a tiring of the muscles. They had been lifting and throwing a hundred pound bail of hay for thirty minutes. After a little rest and some water the next toss was up. The Champion would go first, he looked at my Uncle Harrison as he stood there ready to reach down for the bail of hay. A slight smile broke as he grabbed and took hold and threw the bail of hay into the air, not a whisper could be heard, only the thud of the bail as it landed. The gathering applauded the throw, it was longer than his last throw. The 'moment of truth' had arrived for my Uncle Harrison. He had been in this spot before, history was repeating itself. The last two years, he had faced the Champion and lost. He had watched the throw of the Champion, it was seemingly an impossible throw. It was four inches longer than his last throw. Where did this man get this flow of strength this late in the game. Then he remember the first time he saw that slight smile. It was when he won the High School State Regional Wrestling Championship. Now as then. it was do or defeat. He reached down in one motion, the bail was up, up and away. It landed two inches beyond the Champions' throw. The crowd was speechless for only a moment then it burst forth in congratulations.

The Champion walked over, pause a moment then put out his hand and said; "well done son! You done good!" Again that slight smile. Uncle Harrison never tired in the telling of that day. The day when he finally took down the Champion. And I never tired in the hearing of it. The last time I heard him mention, what he used to refer to as his most 'Memorable Day' was when he spoke; at Grandfather's Funeral.

One of the virtues of the rural farm life in the early 1900,s was the supportive community spirit. When things were not going so well for one of the neighbours what ever the problem might be the neighbours were there to help. Come what may, the helping hand was always extended. Out of this neighbourly concern came the Barn raisings or the Shucking Bees to get the corn in before the Winter approached. Then there was the shared labor and machinery to help in the Wheat Harvesting.

The Steel Wheeled Tractor, the Wheat Thrashing Machines and the Combines appeared in the late 1800's. They were expensive sometimes to expensive for an individual but they were great labor and time savers. They could do the work of ten horses and ten men in half the time or less. So Communities all over America would form 'Co-Op' ventures; coming together to buy the needed machinery and move from one farm to another during the ploughing, planting and gathering. It allowed more acreage to be prepared, seeded and harvested. About the same time the American Urban Culture decided that Toast for breakfast was the going thing after the Electric Toaster became a landslide sales item in the all the Stores across a America . More Toasters, more wheat needed (supply and demand). The name of the Game!

Well during all this " Ploughing, Planting, Shucking, Thrashing and Gathering; the Community 'Get-togethers' increased tenfold, as did the "After the Event Spreads' of Food, Along with the Games, the Fiddle, Banjo and Square Dancing, where you "held and touch". And "walked your baby back home" that's what they do say. With all this "touchee, touchee" and "dozee doe-ing." And the 'now and then' sound of the shuffling of cards, accompanied with a sip and a swallow 'here and there' of the lemonade that someone had conveniently spiked. Then add to all the above that strange custom of smoking a crushed tobacco leaf. This was the last leaf (straw I mean.) for my Grandmother since she was a card carrying "Hard-shelled Baptist". all these kinds of going on's was a "No, No." and I do mean a "No, No".

Roughly translated, a "hard-shelled Baptist" means from time to timehard-headed, or persistenly stubborn, a no-nonsense Bible pounding, slain in the Spirit, literalist. There were some "Shells" who believed that St. Peter took dictation and type set the 'Holy Writ'. Later it was printed and published in the "Holy Roller Print Shop owned by King James, located just outside the "Pearly Gates". In between the Shop that re-feathered tattered and broken wings and the "Golden Harp Shop" where they sold New and Used Harps. And much, much later the Bibles were distributed by "Preachers", there's that word again. The Bibles were called the "King James" Bible to give free advertisement to the Print Shoppe. How about that!, a business minded King.

Now the "Preacher", that's what they do call them. Because someone would shout "Hey, Preacher!" Or the Preacher is coming; you better put out that cigar and hid the booze. Or here comes the Preacher go put the Bible on the table in the parlor and make sure that it is open. The story goes that when the first male Baptist was born in America . The Baptist mid-wife told the Mother and father, your son the Preacher weighed in at ten pounds. And the wife turned to the husband and said; "dear, did you hear what she said; we have baby Preacher, isn't that divine? But what is a Preacher?

Well a Preacher, "the Rev.", a "Jesus Cowboy of the Holy Ghost Corral", "a member of the God Squad", has been called by many names and also called a few other names from time to time. Some they say are just "called". A Famous One by the name of Pauly received a long, a very long distance call and he fell off of his horse or was that a jackass? Anyway upon awaking a Voice said; "you're a Preacher." And he do say; "not me!" And then Pauly asks; what is a "Preacher?" I told you some of those Baptists are literalist, every dot and tittle.

Of course all this is obviously hearsay. Not worth a "wooden nickel". Any one believing any of this needs to be careful because there are some men wearing white coats, carrying a tailored straight-jacket that says on it : Property of the "Funny Farm". And they just might be looking for you. (Just having a little fun, folks!)

Well enough levity for the moment. Let's resume this memory romp of yesteryear. And speak about Christmas time down on the farm in the late twenties. As most know Christmas is a healing time. The wounds of the year seemingly disappear during this festive season. All the hurts, the misgivings take flight as the "Spirit of Christmas" soothes and forgives many of our human frailities that surface from time to time. The less human become more humane, the unforgiving more forgiving, the less compassionate more compassionate, the selfish more selfless, the unloving the more loving. "Peace and goodwill" are on thelips of most, even on some of those harbingers of doom and gloom.

Christmas is that wonderful magical time for the very young and the young at heart. In their eyes and heart, the World becomes a Winter Wonderland as anticipation fills the air. T'is the time when dreams and wishes are wrapped around about with thoughts of sugar plums, peppermint canes and candied apples, hard rock candy, candle lights, tinsel and misteltoe. And let's not forget the red suited man's "Ho Ho! and a Merry Christmas to one and all"

And yes, this was even so in those years when America was brought to her knees. The 'Christmas Spirit' was alive and kicking in the stark face of scarcity and adversity. For you see, in the eyes of a child. Christmas is always Christmas. Come what may!

My Christmas's on the farm hold great memories for me. And I have often wondered, why? Why I remember them over much later ones. Possibly it was because I felt they were pure and simple, no excessive frills or superficiality. They were more personal in the sense that all the preparation was a do-it-yourself Christmas, every body creating and doing. a giving of themselves. It was not an "out of the can" Christmas. The days leading up to Christmas and Christmas was surrounded by lots of affectionate caring. You could not go to the store and buy this kind of Christmas. It was truly home-grown.

Right after Thanksgiving,Grandmother was preparing for the coming Christmas season. Actually she had been preparing all year. She saved and collected everything imaginable; bits and pieces of string, ribbons and bows, tinfoil all sizes and shapes of containers scrape of cloth and fabric, wrapping paper and cotton. You name it she save it. And she knew where all of it was. There were two of the items out of her collection of "this and that" that fascinated me; one was a ball of twine and string about the size of a fat balloon. And the second object was about the same size. It was made up of tinfoil that she had gathered from the tinfoil wrappers of gum. And from the inside of cigarette packs that were lined with tinfoil. Grandfather did not smoke but my two Uncles and my Father smoked like chimneys. Much to the chagrin of my Grand- mother! String, ribbon, bows, cotton and tinfoil were indispensable for trimming the the family Christmas tree.

The day for the Christmas tree selection was a fun day for me. Before I was six years old, Grandfather and one of my Uncles would tramp through the woods and chop down a suitable tree for the front parlor. But the year I turned six, I was part of the Christmas tree Bridgade. On that day, my Grandfather and Uncle Harrison and a new member of the team (me) piled into the Ford truck and headed out on the Christmas tree quest. I was brusting at the seams with pride, here I was with the giants. "A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go. Hi, ho the Merry-O, a hunting we will go." (just a little ditty folks). We reached the spot; Grandfather parked the "tin lizzy" just inside the gate of the woods we were going to enter. He said that the snowdrifts further in were too bad. Grandfather had spotted the perfect tree during the autumn months and he had kept his eye on it during his squirrel hunting time. Of course a walk in the woods anytime was always a good time to put meat on the table. And this time was no exception. As they do say; "if you can get two birds with one stone" (you've done good). Two twenty-two rifles lay side by side along with the axe, hatchet and a cross-cut saw in the back of the truck.

Prior to entering the woods Grandfather told me to try to walk in his footsteps through the deep snow and that Uncle Harrison would follow behind in case I fell. Guess what? I did just that, along with some stumbling, slipping and sliding. But when I did fall Uncle Harrison would reach down with one hand and set me upright like a bowling pin. And then I would try the next big step. It seems I was more horizontal than vertical. We stopped and Grandfather pointed, there it was what a beautiful tree. Like Goldilocks said; "it was just right" for the front pallor. Uncle Harrison and Grandfather made quick work in falling the tree. They tied up the branches and wrapped it up in a burlap sheet. Then they shouldered the tree and headed back to the truck. Oh! I almost forgot Grandfather let me take the first whack at the base of the tree with the hatchet.

After the tree was secured in the back of the pick-up it was time for Bugs Bunny "to head for the hills" because Grandfather and Uncle Harrison were no 'Elmer Fudds. What they shot at, they hit. The rifles were loaded and off we went, except this time I was above the snowdrifts riding high on the shoulders of my Uncle. Grandfather and Uncle Harrison took turns carrying me and shooting. One rabbit that Grand father had hit refused to stay down and started to leap. Grandfather had to reload. Uncle Harrison in one movement put me on the ground and shot the rabbit in mid-air. What a shot! Tom Mix could not have done it better. I forgot to mention the reason my Grandfather and my Uncle were using rifles instead of shotguns. After the game is shot with a shotgun, you have a lot of buckshot to clean out of your kill. A bullet in the head saves a lot of meat and a lot of work. I never knew who was the better shot. It would be a toss up between Grandfather and Uncle Harrison.

After about an hour an a half, fifteen rabbits were in the burlap bag and we were homeward bound. The Christmas tree was unloaded; the burlap bag with the rabbits was put on the back porch. And we washed up for the noon-day meal that Grandmother had been preparing. We seat down, the prayer was offered. And I was just about to tell Grandmother about how I took the first whack to fall the Christmas tree.When she asked me to pass the butter dish, she said; young man your hands are still dirty. You need to go out on the backporch and wash them again. Well they looked clean to me but you did not quibble with Grandmother.

While I was rewashing my hands, there was a thumping and a thrashing sound behind me. Suddenly, one of the rabbits decided he was not dead. He popped out of the burlap bag, wildeyed and bushytailed heading straight for me. It seemed he was growing bigger and bigger by the second. I let out a "hoop and a hollar". Grandfather was already out the kitchen door. He grabbed a mop and clubbed the rabbit knocking it against the wall. (Bye, Bye Rabbit) For several nights after that ordeal, I had rabbit nightmares. A very big and I DO mean BIG rabbit was standing at the foot of my bed. And his name wasn't "Harvey ".The problem was Shep never saw him.

That afternoon a tree stand was made for the Christmas tree, later it was brought into the pallor to be trimmed. The rest of the afternoon and in the evening after supper, the trimming began. Popcorn was being strung, along with the cranberries and marshmellows. When they were finished, we added them to the tree. Then there was the tying on of the many shaped Christmas cookies (toy soldiers, Santa Clauses, reindeers, angels, stars and gingerman) . Grandfather had made some thin tin cut outs (snow men,soldiers, sheep, toy drums, bugles, Christmas balls and angels). Some of these were covered with Grandmother's saved tinfoil and the others painted variouus colors. These also were tied and hung on the branches. There were Special candle holders for the tree which held the candles that we would light at night. The cotton that had been saved was stuck around the branches to simulate snow It was also used to trim the round oval red felt cloth that hid the base of the tree. One of Grandmother Favorites, a cardboard "Nativity" scene was placed at the bottom of the tree. When the trimming was finished, the last piece was added. Then Grandmother would say, "this is what Christmas is all about", as the Star was placed on top of the Tree. And we sang;" Oh! Little Town Of Bethlehem ." What a beautiful Christmas tree it was.

During the seven days that the tree was up, Grandfather would say to Grand-mother; you know it looks like we missed a spot. An ornament or a Christmas cookie needs to be added there. Finally after the third day it was evident that the 'Cookie Monster was afoot. Grandmother would ask me if I had seen the 'Cookie Monster. I would of course deny any knowledge of it's existence. In the seven days leading up to Christmas. I ate enough cookies, candy and pieces of pie and cake to last me for the next twelve months. And so did Shep.

Come Christmas Eve. We would drive into Fillmore to attend the Christmas Eve Service at the Methodist Church where both of my Uncles' families attended. After the Service was over, all the Clan would go back to the farm and wait forChristmas Day to dawn. My Aunts brought all the food which they had prepared for the 'Big Feast' the next day.

That night I wore my eyes out, opening and shutting them as I look at the clock every five minutes. To see if it was time to get up and sneak downstairs before everybody else got up. Shep just ignored my impatience. I don't recall when I finally fell asleep. But whenever it was I missed sneaking downstairs. When I awoke, Shep was licking my face. I knew that I had over slept. I bounced out of bed and hurried down the steps. As I entered the pallor, everybody was dressed and waiting, just standing there looking at the Christmas tree. Suddenly it hit me; all the Christmas presents under the tree were missing.

I thought maybe I was having a bad dream. Everybody was so quiet. Grandfather was the first to speak, sorry, Harry Lee the 'Cookie Monster' came during the night and stole all the presents while we were sleeping. It had to be a dream because I was the 'Cookie Monster'. Then everybody burst into laughter as Uncle Ray and Uncle Harrison started bringing in the missing presents. My heart resumed its' rhythm. This had all been planned by Uncle Harrison when it was evident that I had somehow over slept. Uncle Harrison had sent Shep up to awaken me.

Before the handing out and the opening of the presents, Grandmother made her annual pre-opening speech about being real careful in opening the presents so as to preserve the bows, ribbons and wrapping paper. Of course all knew if we violated Grandmother's edict. The penality would be twenty lashes with a wet noodle (just kidding, folks). Most of my presents were clothes; Grandmother had knitted two sweaters for me with matchiing scarfs. I received even more clothes from my Uncles and Aunts. The three surprise gifts were held for last. The first one was from Uncle Ray and family. It was a large bag of marbles of many colors. Uncle Ray knew how much I enjoyed shooting marbles. The second gift was from Uncle Harrison and Aunt Mildred, it was five new Flash Gordan comic books and a Flash Gordon Space Gun that fired sparks. The third surprise gift was from Grandfather and Father, a Red Rider Air Rifle. It got two "Wows!" on the "Wow Meter Scale". I had circled the Air Rifle many months before in the Sears and Roebuck Catalog, and asked Grandfather a million questions about it. How far would it shoot? Was it very heavy? How big were the pellets? How many did the rifle hold? Could you shoot a bear with it? And here I was holding my wish in my hands. I could hardly wait to shoot it. What a wonderful, wonderful Christmas! And still to come, the Christmas Dinner! Oh! I almost forgot; Shep got a new fancy collar. Which he was not too overjoyed about.

After all the presents had been opened and Grandmother had reclaimed all the ribbons, bows and wrapping paper, we had a small breakfast, anticipating the Christmas Feast, yet to come. Later that morning we dressed for Church. The Christmas Day Service at Grandmother`s Church. I wore one of my new sweaters and scarf. After the Church Service ended, we returned to the farm around 12:30 pm. Grandmother and my two Aunts, busyed themselves with the final preparation of all the coming mouth watering "Yum, Yum's." Extra leaves were put in the dining room and exta chairs were added. The table from the kitchen was brought into the dining room. to hold some of the prepared dishes. Grandmother's special Christmas table cloth was spread over the extended banquet table. Then the table was set with the best Chinaware. All the food was transfered in from the kitchen. It was about that time to hold hands and gather around. After everyone was seated, Uncle Harrison offered the Christmas Prayer. His words reminded us of the less fortunate across the land that was still suffering from the aftermath of "Black Friday" that had paralyzed the Country.

Little did we know at the time, that this Christmas of 1933 would be the last Christmas that some of us would share together? Thank Goodness! we didn't know.

The setting, the gathering, the taste, smell and the abundance of all the food was beyond description. It was a regular food 'Whose Who' starting with the ABC of the food chain and ending with the XYZ of it. The ladies out did themselves and we all responded by out doing ourselves as we waddled away from the table penguin style, mumbling; I ate to much, I ate to much, Why? Why?" After the table was cleared and the left-overs were wrapped and the kitchen was returned to normal. A short nap was in order; my nephew, Shep and I climbed the attic stairs to my room and caught a few winks. Maybe an hour had past, I nudged my nephew and whispered that I was going to go outside and try out my new Air rifle. Shep followed us as we went down the stairs. As we entered the pallour to get the Air rifle and some pellets, Grandfather came in and said, "I was wondering how long it would be before you decided to try out your Rifle. Come on, we will go out behind the barn and set up some targets to shoot. But before there was any shooting to be done. Grandfather gave us some words of advice. First: never, never point the Rifle at anyone. Secondly, do not shoot near or close to the house, always shoot away from the house. Thirdly, do not shoot at any of the farm animals or at any of the birds, squirrels or rabbits. Because unless the shot is perfect it may only cripple and they willescape. When you get a little older and learn how to shoot a 22 Rifle, then you can hunt. Now with the Air Rifle, you can learn how to shoot and gain accuracy. Always make sure when you finish shooting that the Rifle is unloaded and then clean it. After Grandfather had finished speaking he gave us both our first lesson on how to hold, breathe and aim the rifle. What a present!

The day after Christmas, my Mother and her boyfriend drove in from Indianapolis . After the last Divorce and Custody hearing; I only saw my Mother during Christmas and on my birthdays. As I have said before her visits were bittersweet. Grandmother and Mother were hostel antagonists. There was a deep resentment on both sides of the fence (a very high fence). Which made the visits, a mixed bag?

Mother was a strikingly beautiful, 24 year old woman. And a true portrait of the "Flapper Age" in both style and demeanor. A one, two, three strikes and your out as far as my Granmother was concerned. She had taken on the appearence and the mannerisms' of a Movie Actress by the name of Jean Harlow, a Howard Hughes, protegee. Also, there was a little bit of Greta Garbo thrown in. She never entered a room, a restaurant or walked down the street that heads didn't turn; male and female alike. There was something in way she walked, looked and moved. As they do say; "she stirred the air and the thoughts." Her liberated ways was a 'thorn' in my Grandmother's side, setting the stage for an on-going battle.

My Mother's presents that particular year was the; "The Hardy Boys'" series of books and a set of lead toy soldiers; along with some clothes. Her visit ended as usual with a flurry of words between her and Grandmother. Finally Grandfather would have to step in as he often did, to halt the verbage.

Since we are remembering about things when I was six years old, probably something should be said about my first day at Fillmore Elementary School a School which my Father and my two Uncles had attended. Some of their Teachers were still teaching. One could say; that my first day was different, unusual even humorous after the fact. It all happened during what was then called a recess period. A a time out when you would go outside and play in the school yard. The recess period had come to an end and I was being escorted to the Principal's office. By, guess who? The Principal himself, But what I did know, this person was trying to separate my ear lobe from the rest of my head. My trouble started when I refused to give the kickball to another boy after the bell rang, ending the play period. After being reprimaned by a very large person, I said in a very loud voice; "horsefeathers" and this giant said; "what did you say?" I repeated; "horse feathers, are you hard of hearing or something?" That's when the giant showed a great interest in my ear lobe.

Let's back-up several days before this present incident, when I had unfortunately allowed two words to escape my lips which were overheard by a certain pair of ears. Which belonged to the long arm of the law (only kidding), they belonged to Grandmother. The two words in question were "darn it", it seems there was a close resemblance to "d-- it". After the 'talk, talk', Uncle Harrison asked my why grandmother was upset. I told him about the slip of the lip. He told me that the next time I felt the urge to mention the unmentionable. Just say "horse feathers" real loud! Grandfather showed up at the Principal's ofice within the hour and asked; what the problem was? The Principal related the events. Grandfather turned to me and asked; "did you say that?" I replied, "Yes sir". My Grandfather said to the principal; "it will not happen again, I assure you".

On the way home Grandfather asked; "Where did you learn the word "horse-feathers?"? I told him the story about the 'slip of the lip' and the little talk with Grandmother. And about Uncle Harrison's suggestion, Grandfather chuckled and said; He did, did he? Well the "horsefeathers" was not that bad, there are some words that would have been worse. The real reason for your introduction to the Principal's office was because you said; "are you hard of hearing?" That did it! You see the Principal is hard of hearing.

A lot could be said about my first year in school but let me mention something I believe was pivotal and influential in setting the stage for my adjustment to the Learning envoirment,then and later. After my dance "around the Maypole" with the over sized 'Ear Puller". The "good old golden School Days" took on the unexpected because of my incessant curiosity of asking, why? The answers given by the teacherwere either to simplistic or they were evading the question. The questions were asking for more information which was not forth-coming. Inquiry and discussion was not encouraged but rather curtailed. I thought at the time; I wished the Giants on the farm were there to field the questions and give some plausible answers for they never tired in answering my why's and wherefores? And if need be, explaining the answers given. I learned a very valuable lesson long before entering the first grade at the bidding of the giants; to question and to keep on questioning until I felt I had an understanding or an inkling of what was being said. My Grandfather was insistent that I ask questions if I didn't know the meaning or understand whatis being said. "You will never learn if you don't ask questions", he would say over and over. His other constant reminder; "look it up Harry Lee, you were given a pair of eyes and a mind. Find the answer and bring it to me and we will talk about it "God helps those who help themselves". Sometimes he would add; "A good question demands a good answer". "Think about what you are going to say before opening your mouth."

In the first year of my Primary education, the 'status quo became a matter of accepting the shop-worn prepared answers with no maybes, whys or wherefores. My mind instinctively rebelled to this simplistic approach; it was against the teachings of the Giants. Consequently, School became boring and vapid. I retreated into self-inquiry. Earlier on the Giants helped me to check-out everything from the Library that was even remotely connected to what was being taught. I was a thorny problem. One might even say; I was an entire "bramble bush" seated behind a desk. A qualified disturbance because I was not being challenged therefore I was bored stiffer than stiff. My error was being too inquisitive; I needed some answers which were not on the agenda. This was not the end of my rebellion. It would take on a different direction later on. As this 'Narrative' unfolds, it will be evident that these early beginnings were the start of something that would affect how I adapted to life issues. There are many threads in one's 'Tapestry of Life'. And each thread is important for the overall tone, texture and theme of the finished design. as is our own personal method of weaving.

There are many things that are doubled edged. Remembering is one of those things. One minute you are in the throes of joy and the very next moment you are in the grasp of despair and saddness. Come the early spring of 1934, I lost my Grandfather, a real live hero in my young life. I felt the lost, suffered the lost and knew the lost. The suddenness of it; realizing I would never see him again or hear him call my name left me numb, speechless and lost. I would cry myself to sleep. And during the days that followed his death: there were those times I thought maybe he would be coming out of the Barn or off the back porch any minute. But it never happened and finally I had to believe it wasn't going to happen. I also knewthat part of him would live again through me. And that thought, I have carried with me all the years of my life.

No one in the family was prepared for his death. He was a man full of life; his eyes, voice, his manner. The way he walked, everything about him spoke of this aliveness, this energy, both were infectious. What is that saying; "he was truly a man for all seasons". If Grandfather ever had any pain or an ache, no one ever knew about it. He could out work any two men on any given day up until he died. There was no warning. He just went to sleep and never woke up. Everybody, family, community, all who knew him was in a state of shock. As was the custom of the day, before the burial, a sort of Wake was held. After the embalming, Grandfathers' casket was brought to the farm house. Friends, relatives and neighbours came by to offer the usual condolences. Two days later the funeral was held and the internment followed. Grandmother was devastated, she aged overnight. Grandfather was not only her husband; he was her pillar of strength. In the ensuing days Grandmother grew weaker and frailer. The lost and sorrow was taking its' toll. The light in her eyes was fading; her hands were beginning to tremble. The grief was killing her softly.

Other unknown events were simultaneously happening in Indianapolis . My Mother had become engaged and married to a man of substantial means and influence in Indianapolis . Mother was not aware that Grandfather had passed away. Just after her marriage, she and her new Lawyer file for a new Custody Hearing. This Lawyer was reputed to be one best legal mind in Indianapolis . Surprisingly what a little money can do? Did I say a little, I meant a lot of money. The case was to be held in Indianapolis . Almost a month following Grandfather's death,.Uncle Harrison intercepted a supoene without Grandmother's knowledge that gave the date of the hearing. He managed to find out the new Lawyer's name and address. From there he acquired mother's new address. He made a quick trip to Indianapolis to visit and speak to my Mother about the untimely death of my Grandfather and the physical condition of Grandmother's health. He ask her to visit me and to make no mention of his visit. He want her to see Grandmother's decline. For he believed that if the Custody case was held as scheduled.That a second loss so soon after losing her husband would cause her immediate death. Mother arrived at the farm two days after Uncle Harrison's visit. I was out in the Barn playing with Shep when he started barking as he bolted out the door, as I brought up the rear. There was a brand new shiny black car pulling into the driveway. Uncle Harrison and Uncle Ray were walking towards the car. The door on the driver's side opened an a man got out, he walked around to the other side and opened the door on the passenger's side. It was then I saw mother step from the car, I ran full tilt to get a big hug and a kiss. When I reached her we both had tears in our eyes. Introductions were made, along with Uncle Harrison telling my Mother about Grandfather's death, as though it was the first time she had heard about it. No one knew about about the secret meeting. All of us went into the farmhouse to visit with Grandmother, E.W staid in the parlor. Very few words were spoken, it was questionable wither Grandmother even regognized Mother. It was evident that Grandmother was fading and in no way resembled her usual self. After we had left the room Mother said to Uncle Harrison," I am so sorry, s It is hard to believe how much she has aged. I will do as you said and wait for your call."

Mother and I walked back to the car and climbed into the backseat and talked. She never mentioned the real reason for her surprised trip to the farm. I learned much later the whys and wherefores. She spoke about her marriage to E.W. and the new home they bought. She mentioned that maybe in the summer I could come and vist. I was not aware of the new Custody Case. After about an hour she said that that they had to be leaving. We got out of the backseat. E.W. and my two Uncles were approaching the car. They were asking about the Automoble and E.W. proudly explained that it was a new design that Chrysler had just put on the market. It sure was a big one, the biggest one that I had ever seen. "Goodbyes" were said along with another big hug and a kiss and they drove away.

Not even a month had past since my Mother's surprise visit. When Uncle Harrison called her and told her that Grandmother had passed away. And that the Funeral would be in two days. He asked if she would please attend if possible and she said she would come. The day of the Funeral she arrived, she drove down by herself. She knew instinctively the grief I was floundering in. I couldn't understand how Grandfather and Grandmother were no longer with me, that I would never, see them again. It wasn't fair, I was so empty. There were even thoughts about my disappearing forever or my Mother, Father or Uncles. I had seen death on the farm, as animals died but this was different, the sadness and the hurt was not the same. And I was not the same. I lost sleep, I lost weigh, I was blah! I was not a Happy Camper!

Grandmother was laid side by side next to Grandfather. I didn't realize the full impact of both their deaths until much later. There were times when I believed that they were just on a long trip and would return home, any time now. It is indeed strange that in our grief we come to realize how much we loved the departed and somehow feel quilty. Wondering why? We did not express our love, our appreciation more often while they were with us. And even now in this remembering; the hurt and sadness has resurfaced. Both of my Grandparents gave so much of themselves to me. Much of who and what I am, was influenced by both. Their ceaseless love and concern far out weighed the strife. Because all who were involved were much more than the preceived negativity, that would come and go. They held one thing in common, their affectionate caring for me.

The Custody Hearing was held in Indianapolis in the early summer. The decision of the Court gave Mother full Custody and visiting rights to my Father and Uncles. Also there was a provision providing that on the agreement of both concerned parties; summer vacation visits to the farm could be arranged.

On recalling my departure from the Farm it made me 'sicken unto death'. A part of me was everywhere, inside and outside the Homestead . I am sure that that part of me is still hanging around. If this is not true, I am certain, I know that all I experience, felt, saw and heard in those early formative years is still with me. But little did I know that my life was going to be turned upside down. A new page was to be written. 'The Farmboy becomes a City boy.'

Allow me to rearrange my remembering and put several memories ahead of those which were time wise first; to illustrate my transformation. Move over "Pygmalion!" There is a saying; "that you can take the boy out of the country. But you can't take the country out of the boy." I am quite sure Mother was aware of that quote. She just did not agree with the conclusion. Little did I know that in 'La,la Land', a place called Hollywood , there was another young boy named Freddie Bartholomew who had been born in Dublin , Ireland 1926 and abandoned, raise by an Aunt Cissy? Who became a very successful Child Actor. In some convoluted way, Mother imagined a resemblance between the Child Actor and me which became the genesis of my make-over. There were Movie posters and photos of young Freddie, enough to stir the imagination of my Mother. Out of which she fashioned an "Image" as to how I was to be dressed.

One morning shortly after my arrival in the big City, we drove into town. The clothes I was wearing at the time were clothes which she had given me at Christmas Time, when she had made her annual visit to the Farm. Our first shopping store was L. S. Ayres Department Store. I put on and took off more clothes than a 'Cat-walk model'. Every time I looked into the mirror I wondered who that was staring back at me. If Shep had been watching this Clothes Changing Marathon he would have been the first dog who died laughing. Speaking of Shep, I was really missing him. One of the hardest things about my leaving the farm was leaving behind my good old reliable Shep, who made so many of my days on the farm, happy days. They do say; 'That a dog is mans' best friend'. Well Shep was that and more to me. Well back to "Clothes Caper". During our eternity march through the isles of cloth, buttons and zippers searching for the right outfit to be worn by the alter-ego conjured up in my Mother's mind. I stepped out between the curtains of the dressing room and my mother said as if she had just seen a vision. "Yes! Yes! that's the one , that's the one. He will wear it, wrap up his old clothes." As I looked in the mirror, I thought to myself; "no! no!, not me, I can't walk out of the store looking like this."Please!, bare with me while I try to remember the items I was wearing. Let's start with the shoes; they were shiny black patents with little bows. Then came the white knee length silk stockings just below the pleated velvet short pants and the tucked in white silk shirt that had ruffled cuffs that slightly extended beyond the velvet cuff. At the waist of the velvet pantswas a red silk sash tied in the middle hanging at my side. We are not through yet, last came the 'piece de resistance' a wide brim hat with 'a gold hat band and a feather plume sticking out of the band. All I needed was a fencing foil. Mr. Dumas would have been proud. I am not to sure about the remaining Musketeers. Well sure as the Sun rises in theEast, my Mother and I exited the store. I was wearing a ridiculous outfit (that's a gross understatement)and my Mother was wearing a proud smile. As we walked into one of the finest Restaurants in Indianapolis . I could feel the eyes following us to a table as we were seated. I was hoping that the staring was because my Mother as usual looked as if she had just stepped out of the Vogue Fashion Magazine. As always, she was a show stopper. I suffered through the meal and my self-consciousness. I thought it would never end. Finally the check was called for and we walked through thegauntlet of curious eyes once again before reaching the front door. As the Maitre d' opened the door and handed me my hat, he said; "Nice feather!" On the way home I asked if I could change clothes in the car before we got home? My Mother said, "No", I want your Father to see your new outfit. We arrived home; Mother got out and asked if I would bring the rest of the packages into the house.

She went on into the house.I grabbed the rest of the packages. Andwasbacking out of the car with the packages. As I turnedaround, there were two boys and a girl standing in front of me. The bigger of the boys said; "you must be the new kid from the farm". I acknowledged and answered "yes". Then he said "your dressed a little early for Halloween aren't you". I grinned as they laughed. He continued; "you look like a Momma's sissy-boy to me, I don't like Momma sissy-boys." I didn't know what he was talking about; I started toward the house with the packages. He knocked them out of my hands and pushed me against the car. "You aren't listening to me sissy-boy." I tried to pick-up the boxes but he knocked them out of my hands again. "I'm going to teach you a lesson. He took a swing at me and it landed in the middle of my face, blood was coming out of my nose. I pushed him away and he tripped over the fallen 4boxes. I started to run towards the house but his side-kick tripped me and the ground came up and met me. Theyboth were seated on top of me taking turns in a punching marathon. I remembered very little after that, but my Mother told me that the Postman yelled at them and they disappeared. E.W arrived shortly after the melee and asked jokingly, "if I got the license plate of the truck that ran over me." I managed a smile.

In the midst of all the excitement, Mother wanted to call the Police. But E.W. intervened and said it would be a waste of time. No one knew who the trio was. It would be my word against theirs. The black eye, the cut lip and the bleeding nose was evident that a fight took place, that's all. Positive identification would have been "iffy". E.W. said he would call Swifty, there was another alternative. That call changed my life and the consequences multiplied down through the years. Most of which were positive.

(Please allow a side note)

Shortly after my arrival in the big City, E.W., had invited a few business associates and their families over for a barbecue one evening. A man by the name of Swifty and his son Jimmy were on the Guest list. Jimmy and I were the only young peopleamong the adults. During the evening Jimmy and I became acquainted. He asked about my life on the farm and I asked about his life in the Big City . I learned that he was three years my senior and that he was the only child,his Mother had died during his birth. It was just he and his Father. And that his Father and E.W. were business associates as well as friends, they had know each other for a long time.I also learned that I would be going to the same School as he went too, come this fall.

The rest of the story, where were we?

The next day Swifty and Jimmy came to the house. His first remark after seeing my face; "I see you forgot to duck." During the conversation that followed I learned that Swifty Peterson had been a professional boxer and at one time had been a sparing partner for Jim Braddock the former Heavyweight Champion. In 1929, Braddock was preparing to fight against Tommy Longhran, a Light- heavyweight. It was during his preparation for the match, that Swifty became one of Braddock's sparing partners. Braddock was defeated in that fight. The Depression hit and boxing bouts were few and far in between. But in 1935 Braddock won some notable fights over a couple of highly ranked Heavyweights and was then matched against Max Baer, the then Heavy-weight Champion of the World. The fight was held on Long Island , New York (1935). Braddock was a 10 to 1 underdog and the unthinkable happened,he beat the World Champion that night and came to be known as the 'Cinderella Man'. He held the title for two years, then in 1937 the "Brown Bomber-Joe Louis defeated Braddock. After that he had one more fight defeating Tommy Farr after which he retired. (Sorry, for the detour) Swifty now owned a Gym where aspiring young boxers trained. He also mentioned that Jimmy had won the 'Junior Golden Glove Tournament' the previous year. And then he turned to me and asked; "would you like to learn how to defend yourself son?" Of course my answer was "Yes." Mother started to say something but E.W. put his finger to his lips. She never finished the sentence.

A week later; Jimmy was teaching and training with me. This was done early in the mornings before the Gym was officially open. Swifty, Jimmy and I opened the doors of the Gym at seven each morning. I learned how to skip rope, work the heavy bag and the speed bag on a raised platform for me to stand on.Jimmy worked along side of me, teaching me all that his dad had taught him as far as the basics. I didn't put on the boxing gloves, the head gear or the Kidney belt till after six weeks had past. I was taught stance, footwork, how to punch and the shifting of the weight for each type of punch. We did defensive and offensive drills, shadow and mirror boxing. Not to mention all the running, sit-ups and push-ups. After six weeks of six days a week; E.W., myself, Jimmy and Swifty arrived at the Gym one morning for my first sparring session inside the Ring with Jimmy, with all the gear. E.W. had brought me a present that morning, a pair of 12 oz . Boxing gloves that had Jack Demsey's name printed on them. Jimmy was about three inches taller than me, 15 lbs . heavier and faster. After we had our gear on Jimmy, I and Swifty stepped between the ropes. Swifty called out all the routines, defensive and offensive, all the different punches to be thrown. He corrected my footwork and the shifting of the weight as I threw my punches.There were three, three minute rounds. I could hardly raise my arms after the first round which meant I got tagged by Jimmy more than I should have and also yelled at by Swifty. I tried to remember all the things I had been taught in the last six weeks while I was becoming a punching bag. In the entire first session I don't believe I landed a head shot. After my first sparing lesson was over; Swifty said; "you did fine son", if he hadn't been looking at me when he said it. I would have thought he was speaking to Jimmy. He went on to say to me; you will spar three rounds each training session from now on. And your running will increase to one mile each day and you will shadow box with the boxing gloves on. Jimmy will train with you all the way. By the second week in August, I knew what I was doing right and what I was doing wrong in the Ring. The three rounds were getting easier; I was countering more punches, my footwork and shifting was coming together with my punches. I was beginning to understand how all the training was fitting together. Why all the constant repetiveness.. Jimmy and I were becoming like brothers even though he was out pounding me everyday. One day I asked him if he was pulling his punches, he said; he was at one time but no more. I was getting the best he had. Thank God! for the head gear and the Kidney belt.

During the first six weeks, every bone, muscle and fibre of my body ached. When I started sparring all the aches were gone. I acquired new ones from all the pounding on my arms and the punches to the body and head. Mother was worried that it was to much but Swifty reassured her that my body and mind were adapting. To prove his point Swifty had arranged a three round bout with another boy who was eight years old and who had been boxing for a little over a year. He had had three fights and won them all. Swifty believed I could stay with him in the ring. In weight and height we were equal. There was a full week to train before the Fight. Jimmy had seen the other boy fight and he was confident I could take him. The one thing that Jimmy had noticed, my opponent had a difficult time when he was in the corners of the ring or on the ropes and trapped. So all my training that week was to stay out ofthe center of the ring and force my opponent into the corner or on the ropes and work on a solid body attack to bring his arms down for a head shot.

The night of the fight arrived, I needed a butterfly net, my stomach was churning, Swifty and

Jimmy and Swifty were taping my hands and massaging my arms and shoulders talking away with their separate 'pep' talks. I was there but not there. I was trying to remember everything I was taught, it was coming and going. Then someone said; "It's time, let's go." We walked out of the dressing room into the Gym. It was then I saw Mother, E.W. and a couple of other people seated with my parents.. The rest of the Ringside was filled with many of the other boxers and trainers that used the Gym. That didn't help my butterflys, I ducked under the ropes, Jimmy joined me. Swifty joined my parents. It was decided that Jimmy would be in my corner giving instructions as the Fight progressed. Also a friend of Swiftys was to be my cut man if I suffered any bleeding. I thought to myself that it was nice to know that I wouldn't bleed to death.I looked over to the opposite corner at my oponent, he seemed calmer than I was. Introductions were made in the center of the Ring. My opponent looked a little heavier than me. Back to my corner, the bell rang and Jimmy said; "go get'em Irish". His first jab snapped my head back; I felt the sting of the leather, as another jab reached my face. I heard Jimmy yelling, "get out of the center." I moved forward ducking under the next jab, shifting my weight as I hooked my left into his mid-section just below his rib-cage. He back up towards the ropes. I followed shifting my weight again, this time my right caught him on the right side of his rib-cage. He was hurting, I had him trapped against the ropes, and I pounded his mid-section with all my strength, his hands dropped just like Jimmy had predicted. At that point I saw the image of the Bully that had beaten me, standing in front of me. I shifted my stance and brought my right hand up catching him as he was sinking to the canvas. The fight was over. Jimmy jumped into the Ring and raised my hand in Victory. Again I was there but I wasn't, I heard very little of the cheering. I went to the ropes and saw my cheering section clapping their hands and waving. Then I went over to the opposite corner and shook my opponent's hand. By that time Swifty had climbed into the ring. He threw his arms around me and said; I knew it, I knew you could take him." "How's it feel son? I said; "great!" but I really couldn't say; "how I felt or what I was feeling at that moment." When we returned to the dressing room, there were people outside the door waiting to congratulate and shake my hand.Inside waiting was mother and E.W., E.W. said; "You did good, real good." Mother hugged me and I blushed. The last to congratulate me, was my best friend, trainer and adopted brother. I thanked both him and his Father.

After I had showered and dressed, we all piled into the Chrysler to go put on the fed bag. That was my first and last Ring fight during my early formative years.I now knew how to defend myself but much more than that. Swifty and son not only taught me how to box, they taught me about discipline and persistence. But I learned something even greater, the 'will to win' and a lesson about friendship. Jimmy and his Fatherboth gave of themselves to me (There is no greater gift than the giving of oneself to another) that was their legacy to me.

Since I skipped over a few memories that should havecome first, we will now rectify that and talk about pulling up in front of my Mother's new home. My first words were those old standbys; Golly gee! And Wow! Make that a double "Wow!" It was a large brown brick structure, two storied house, sitting back off the street with a large front lawn with landscaping, including hedges and flowers around a large front porch. E.W. opened the front door and I stepped inside, I didn't know what to say, my favorite words escaped me. I just stood there and stared. I was in the parlour, later I was corrected, and it was called the living room. There were pieces of furniture of which I had never seen nor had I ever seen a room that big. Then we walked into what was called a Foyer where there was a writing desk with a fancy telephone sitting on it. There were two doors, one led to the dining-room and the other to the Kitchen. Also therewas a stairway that led to the upstairs. The dining room had a large table with a lot of chairs around it. On one wall was a large painting that took up half the wall, a Landscape scene with a Castle peeking out from behind some trees against a background of mountains. Over and against another wall was alarge glassed China Cabinet filled with beautiful China and Crystal Glassware. And oh, yes!, in the middle of the dining room table a large Silver Tea Serving Set. Next we went through a swinging door into the Kitchen and there was a lady cooking up something and whatever it was, it smelled delicious. I was introduced to Hilda, she was the cook and the housekeeper, and she lived on the premises. The kitchen itself was a lot bigger than the kitchen on the farm. But some of the things in the kitchen were things I had never seen. Such as a refrigerator that kept food cold. Two stoves that were called gas stoves and a large stainless steel sink with counters and running water. Then Hilda opened a door to what was called a Pantry, I thoughtI was standing in a Grocery Store, it was shelved from top to bottom with all sorts of canned foods, etc... We left the kitchen by another door and we were standing in the Foyer again. Mother then said; would you like to see your room? After we reached the top of the stairs, she opened the door of my room. It was something else, the room was huge.There was a double size bed with two tables one on each side of the bed with lamps on each. Book shelves with books on the wall