Each of us has a story to tell in the pictures of our lives. One of the stories that helped me develop and become the person I am today remains with me to this day. In my youth, my father owned a sevice station, as they were called in the 1950's. During my formative years, I was a part of this environment. My mother was sick and remained so for the first ten years of my life. Along that time, my father kept my mother with him almost all the time which meant that I was with them both most of the time. My father kept the station open from morning to late at night. I think he usually closed around ten o’clock.
When I would get sleepy in the evening, I would crawl up into a little bed which my father made for me. My little bed was made of the bottom of a cardboard box, as I recall, and some soft covers and a pillow. My little bed was under a wooden counter; and when I climbed in, I would draw a little cotton curtain to close out the light. I would as children do sleep very peacefully while my Dad and my Mom remained busy at work into the evening and the close of the station.
After my Dad closed the station at night, he would gather me up in his arms, carry me to the car, and get me out of the car when we arrived home. He then would gather me up in his arms once more, and he would carry me and place me in my bed. Sometimes, I barely would awake when he carried me from place to place, as I recall. The one thing I do remember is that I was safe in his arms and that he would keep me in every way until the morning when I would once again awake to the new day.
