1963 was a wonderful year. The 8th grade went smoothly for me now that I could stay in one school and finish it out. The summer was even more exciting; I had cemented my friendship with two very close cousins and we were regularly doing things together. We "men" still had our late night card games, if everyone was there. We still enhanced the card games with middle of the night bologna sandwich and cookie snacks. Some nights instead of cards I would sit up and watch television until all the channels we could get went off the air.

Dad would stay up with us sometime watching old movies or whatever was playing. One night when Larry wasn't around and we didn't play cards, Dad and I were up watching TV and snacking. A knock came at the door and startled both of us. It was pretty late for anyone to be knocking on the door. Dad answered it and saw a man wearing a long black over coat with a hat something like Dad's really nice Stetson hat. Dad greeted the man, invited him in and waited for him to say what was on his mind.

By now I had gotten up and went to the door to stand behind Dad. The man had a big bloody gash on his forehead and his hands were bleeding. His shirt was ripped open right in the middle and it was covered with blood. His face had the look of sheer panic as he stuttered and stammered trying to explain his story to Dad. He was shaking all over, trembling and trying to tell Dad what had happened. Dad kept interrupting trying to get the man to be a little more specific. Dad asked him into the house a couple of times but the man didn't budge. He kept pointing toward the corner down the street a little bit. Finally Dad understood what the man was trying to say. The man had missed the curve and had run his car into the ditch.

Dad's house was very close to a sweeping country corner that seemed to take many people by surprise. It was pretty normal to have at least one car miss the curve every month or so. The curve had been there for several years, ever since our road got paved, probably eight or ten years. Still, when someone came up to the corner they were greeted by the curving pavement and had to make a quick decision which way to go; straight, following the gravel road or take the sweeping curve that seemed the way to go but wasn't very familiar.

That's why Dad could fill in the blanks in this man's story tonight; he was familiar with people coming down to the house and asking for a helping hand of some kind. This time it was a bit different,

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