As I’m only a few days shy of my 79th birthday, I feel the urge to reminisce about some of my childhood memories. I hope you’ll indulge me.

There was a Delco light plant in the corner of the cellar near the outside cellar door. This device consisted of a small gasoline engine, a generator, and a number of large storage batteries that provided us with 32 volts of DC electricity to operate lights, etc.

About 1937 or 1938, I remember watching out the window as a lineman hooked up our electricity at the pole. Dad got an electrician to wire the house and barn and my Uncle Dave, who was an electrician for J & L Steel in Aliquippa, Pa., rewired several strings of Christmas tree lights so they would work on the new 110 volt AC current, rather than the DC put out by the Delco plant.

A neighbor who lived farther south of us, where the electric line wouldn't reach for quite a while, bought our Delco plant. I remember him dragging the concrete base for the light plant up the dirt road behind his old Ford car.

I don’t remember this, but when I was a baby, the open fireplace in the living room at the bottom of the stairwell was used for heat. One winter night, Dad woke up, smelled smoke, and found hot coals had fallen beyond the brick hearth and had ignited the wooden floor. I don't think the fireplace was ever used after that and that’s probably when a coal-fired space heater was installed in its place.

I remember running downstairs on cold winter mornings to dress by that coal stove, as there was no heat upstairs, other than what went up through the stairwell. We had a coal range in the kitchen besides the coal stove in the living room. There was a fireplace in each of the two larger bedrooms upstairs, but I don't remember them ever being used.

We lived on a dirt township road that was probably half a mile from the Pennsylvania State Route that we called “the upper road.” During the late 1930s, the WPA paved that road. A layer of crushed rock was put down and then black-top over that. My conservative Republican parents always complained about the lazy WPA workmen, just standing around leaning on their shovels, however, the formerly gravel road did get paved.

At that time, our township had five or six one room schools, and I started first grade at one of them in the fall of 1939. Miss Haley was the teacher; she was young and pretty and I liked her very much. Mom had taught me to read and write before I started school so Miss Haley moved me into 2nd grade that first year; no wonder I liked her.

At recess, we played different games. One we called "Andy Over," in which the kids chose up sides with one team being on either side of the schoolhouse, out of sight of each other. One side threw a rubber ball over the peak of the roof and the other team attempted to catch it. If they failed, they threw it back over the roof. This back and forth continued until someone caught the ball, whereupon the lucky team ran around the building and attempted to tag a member of the opposing team with the ball. A tagged individual then switched sides and, if the game went on long enough, the winning team ended up with all the players.

We also played "Red Rover," but about all I remember of it was the call: "Red Rover, Red Rover, let Billy, or Sue, or Sammy, come over."

We played a lot of softball that we called, "Move-up." I'm not sure how we chose initially, but there was a kid in every position on the field. There were 2 or 3 batters who got to keep batting if they didn't get put out. When a batter was out he went to left field, and the rest moved up a position. The move-up order was (I think) left, to center, to right field; then to shortstop, 3rd, 2nd, and 1st base. From 1st base to pitcher, then catcher, and finally to bat.

Another big source of recess time entertainment was the fairly large creek which ran alongside the school house. We played in and jumped over the creek in nice weather, and caught sucker fish, which were plentiful. Winter was the best time for playing on the creek, however. We spent every minute sliding on, and often falling through, the ice. Even though I wore 4-buckle arctic boots in the winter I usually ended up with wet feet, which meant a paddling when I got home for Mom abhorred wet feet.

The school building had a raised platform at the front upon which was the teacher's desk. In front of her desk was a long wooden bench to which the various classes came to recite their lessons. A pot-bellied stove stood in the center of the room, and on either side were several rows of desks. Behind us was the only entrance through a small vestibule in the bottom of the bell tower. There was a bell in the tower, but the rope was broken and I never heard it ring. On either side of this vestibule was a row of hooks for hanging coats, and a water bucket and a dipper that everyone drank from. Behind the building were a well and a hand pump, located dangerously close to a long narrow building that housed the girl's and boy's outhouse on either end, with a space for coal storage in the center.

That’s all I have space for now. Maybe I’ll tell you more some time.

My 5th grade school picture from the spring of 1943. That's the entire student body at that time, along with the only teacher, Mrs. Majors, at the far left. I'm kneeling in front, 2nd from the left, with my best buddy Thornton Harn. 

I think I’ve told the story of the time when I was probably 12 or 13 and driving our ’36 Chevy flatbed truck pulling a hayloader. My father was on the load, forking the hay into position on the truck so it wouldn’t fall off on the way to the barn. Well, the hayloader picked up a very much alive blacksnake and delivered him, along with the windrow of hay, onto the load at Dad’s feet.

Dad didn’t like snakes at all, and I was surprised to hear his feet hitting first the cab roof, then seeing him hit the hood and fender, before jumping to the ground. We all got a good laugh from that and I don’t think he lived it down for a while.

A number of years ago, I ran across this little story, probably on the ‘net, and thought it was pretty funny. Perhaps you will too.

A man was explaining to a visitor why he was in the hospital. He said his wife had brought some potted plants and hanging baskets into the house for the winter. A little green garter snake had been hiding in one of the plant and when he warmed up he crawled out of the plant and slithered across the floor. The man’s wife saw him just as he disappeared under the sofa and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The man was taking a bath at the time and when he heard his wife’s scream he leaped out of the tub and ran naked to see what was wrong.

The missus told him there was a snake under the sofa, so he got down on his hands and knees to look for it. About this time, his dog came wandering in and cold-nosed him. Sure it was the snake, he promptly fainted.

His wife thought he’d had a heart attack and called for an ambulance. The paramedics rushed in and loaded him on a stretcher. Just as they picked up the stretcher, the snake crawled out from under the sofa, scaring the one paramedic so that she dropped her end of the stretcher and the guy’s leg got broken, which was why he was in the hospital.

After the paramedics gathered him up and left with her husband, the wife, still terrified of the snake, ran next door to get her neighbor to help. This stalwart individual, having camped out with some Cub Scouts the previous summer, considered himself to be quite an outdoorsman. After arming himself with a rolled up newspaper, he took a few swipes under the couch. Finding no trace of the offending reptile, he declared that the snake had probably fled out the door with the ambulance attendants.

Relieved, the woman collapsed on the couch just as the snake stuck its head out from between the cushions right at her side. She screamed and fainted while the snake beat a hasty retreat back under the sofa. The great hunter, vaguely remembering a long ago first aid class on mouth to mouth resuscitation, took a deep breath and put his lips over those of the unconscious woman’s.

His wife, who had just gotten out of her car with a sack of groceries heard the neighbor scream and ran to see why. Seeing her husband in a compromising position, atop and mouth to mouth with the neighbor lady, she hit him over the head with the sack of groceries.

The noise of the blow and the cans scattering across the floor brought around the woman who had fainted. She saw the neighbor on the floor with his wife bending over him and thought he’d been bitten by the snake. She ran to the kitchen and got a bottle of brandy which she began to pour down the poor fellow’s throat. With all the thrashing around and choking and coughing, the brandy got spilled on the man and both the women.

Another neighbor had heard the screams and all the commotion and called the cops. Two policemen walked in, sniffed the brandy and listened skeptically as the two women, both crying uncontrollably and talking at once, tried to explain that a snake had caused the whole thing.

Finally another ambulance was summoned, which hauled away the still unconscious man and his sobbing wife. The cops departed, shaking their heads, and leaving behind a more or less hysterical woman, and one very small and very frightened garter snake hidden under the couch.