During my early years we lived close to the bone. During that time my father wasn't around that much, that was until we moved in that house on the hill. Before moving there we seemed to move every year, sometimes twice a year. After we had moved on the hill my father starts operating a bulldozer which hiked his pay considerably. Although his pay increased we still never owned much of anything, not a car, neither a phone till our last year on the hill. We cut our firewood by hand from the mountains nearby, using a two person crosscut saw. Every year we raised two hogs and we butchered those hogs in the fall, during cold weather. My mother was the rock of our family and she provided much more than any other mother could ever have accomplished. I often wondered how she could cope while living with my alcoholic father. One day in 1959 I came home to find my father dead, shot through the mouth by his own hand. I have carried that scene with me all these years. After we buried my father our mother and I, with my sister Pearl moved to the city. After living on that hill, I craved excitement! The city caught hold of me and I never looked back! Year and half later my mother believing the city wasn't where I should be, packed us up and moved back to the country!
Once there I fell in with bad companions, and ran afoul of the law!
The judge believing I should spend my free time working for the state, for the next 17 years. After spending over five years in the state's bean fields planting those little buggers, I was granted parole 1967. My first two marriages were not the best match. I married my present wife in 1979, we have two wonderful boys and our 40th anniversary was on December 15th, 2019!
