Being little

I spent a few minutes today thinking about being little. That is; I was trying to remember life on the farm when I was very small. A few things come back but not very much for as long as the days seemed. Time moved slowly. An hour was forever.

My aunt Marcy (Marcella) and Grandma live on one side of the house. Grandma was old and not very well. Marcy took care of her. Grandma die, May 20, 1941 and I was not yet 4 years old. I used to go to their side of the house to get Marcy to read to me. She was kind of a second mother to me. I don't really remember that much about Grandma, other than seeing her sit in her rocking chair. After grandma die Marcy went to the convent and became a nun.

One of my earliest memories is from the summer of 1940. The family decide to have a picnic up on top of the hill behind the house. Dad got stuff together and made a fire up there to roast wieners. He own a 1929 Buick at that time and I got ride to the top of the hill in the car with grandma, Marcy, mom and dad. The other kids had to walk. It was a big deal for me to get to the top of the hill and be able to see so far. Dad said that I could see the hills on the other side of New Bethlehem and that was a long way in my book.

Mom was not very well when I was little and one time she had to go to the hospital in Pittsburgh. She was there what seemed to me to be a long time. While she was gone, Dad hired Veral Aaron to keep house and take care of us kids.