After Uncle Charles married, Granddaddy built them a house on the back of his property.

Roger Dale, in the third grade now, was short and carried himself with a quiet air of authority. His general attitude towards me was “watch and learn,” but, under penalty of Daddy’s law, he was my protector. Much to my irritation, he accepted the assignment with great relish.

Granny continued to remind me of my miraculous birth, but by now, I felt she had somehow failed to convey this important message to Roger Dale. Both he and Barbara Anne lost no opportunity to remind me that I was a bratty kid who needed to either grow up or get lost!

Barbara Anne was taller with beautiful long brown hair. And, Granny allowed her to wear sweaters, tight skirts, nylons and patent leather shoes. I was stuck with baby dresses, petticoats and cotton socks. I tried to hate Barbara Anne, but she seldom noticed. She did, however, tell me the neatest secrets about boys and girls. So, most of the time, I forgot to be jealous.

Ronnie Wayne was the comic. He made us laugh when we were supposed to be serious - we loved him for it. Dewayne, the youngest, was still a baby. He had mysterious seizures, seldom talked, and always disappeared when the going got tough. While I was certain he was not dumb in the biblical sense of the word, I personally felt he was content to allow the mysteries of life to pass him by without comment. He was to be protected, as Roger protected me.

Down by Granddaddy’s river, moss continued to sway in that late summer breeze, as we played on Granny's hill from sun up to sun down. It would be my last summer before starting school.