My story

I was born in the early part of the last century in a small mountain town in Southern Missouri, USA. My father was a school teacher there and my grandparents and great grandparents were there also.

The first memory I have is of a little girl playing with me in the back yard. She looked so big to me, but I found out later that she was only about 7 and I was only a year and a half old. The snatches of memory I have of her she was wearing a white dress with small flowers on it and I was in a mud puddle having a good time. She was watching me. My mother came out and was very angry with both of us. I guess this is why I remember it.

Across the street was a cemetery which fascinated me. In later years all my great grandparents on mother's side were buried there as was my grandfather. But then I had no idea what cemeteries were for, but this one looked like a good place to play. Our little house was yellow, the big house next door was white and the little road which ended just below the big house was a rarely used dirt road. No one in that section had a car, or needed one. You could walk from one end of the town to the other end in about 45 minutes. Dad walked to school every day and mother took me and walked to get groceries on the town square a couple of times a week.

I found out later that this was an incredibly hard time for my parents. To me, though, it seemed idyllic. Later we had to move in with my grandparents. They lived across the street from the school where my dad taught. But, this is another story to be continued in part II.