One day my eldest brother Wilmarth and some of the rest of us kids, I was too young to remember who – but I remember that we put my brother Floyd just a year younger than I, into a baby carriage. We all pushed the carriage up the hill then let it go. Down it went, across the lawn over the ledge and into the brook. It landed right side up with little brother still in it.
Isn’t God a great protector of little children!
My Pop could build houses and furniture and at Christmas, he would make little rocking chairs, rocking horses, dolls houses etc. One Christmas he made a very sturdy kiddy-kar. My brother and I carried it up in the barn and threw it out the hay loft door. We were just four and five years old.
I ask myself now, how did we ever get it up in the hay loft? And why?
I confess the truth sixty-eight years later for the first time. When I was six years old, I found a ring in my father’s dresser. It was a Masonic ring – I didn’t know that at the time. I took it and buried it in the dirt in the road. When Pop missed it he asked each one of us who took it. I never admitted that I did and I never found it. He died never knowing who took it.
Confession is good for the soul.