I was a lucky young kid. I guess I just fell into it; never gave it much thought. I learned how to work for money. There were several jobs that came available in my early life, and they were all great experiences. And since I grew up in the Great Depression and World War II, … Read more
I was ten, I think. I had, during the previous several months, become addicted to hillbilly music, as it was called then. I had been kept home from school with a sore throat that wouldn’t go away, so during the long afternoons I would listen to local radio — AM only, of course, and country … Read more
The Coles. The Coles were a large family who lived close to Sycamore Street. The senior Mr. Cole, whose first name I never knew, had come — from Canada, I think — to work at the “Carbide” chemical plant. He was half-Canadian Indian, half Caucasian, perhaps French. His wife was either full Indian or half … Read more
During my early teen years, the summers were a time of laziness (except for the jobs, which took only part of the day) and being useless. I’d help around the house, which wasn’t a big deal, but for the most part I just engaged in a number of activities, none of which got in the … Read more
As a kid growing up in a valley full of chemical plants and related industries, one would think that my young life would be centered on neighborhood, factory-town stuff. Not so, at least not very much. In spite of all those factories, our neighborhood was about a mile away from real woods. And through those … Read more