I'm trying to keep the time sequences after my cloud watching days straight. Because I didn't live in the same place all the time, it's a little confusing. Sometimes I'd be with Mom and Dad. Other times, back with Grand Pa, or maybe with the other grand Ma, my Mom's Mom. Wherever I was, I usually found something to do.

If I was with my parents, if Dad could afford the quarter for it, it was allright to walk to town and take in a movie. If I was at Grand Pa's, I knew to not ask.
Methodists were more strict about things like that back then. Movies were sinful, and would put bad ideas in our head. It was more sinful to watch one on a Sunday.

I couldn't see what was wrong or awful about Hopalong Cassidy catching
bad guys, But the look on Grand Ma and Grand Pa's faces told me I couldn't go.

Skating wasn't considered bad, and there was a skating rink, but it cost more, so I hardly ever went there.


In my home town. it gets awfully hot. I loved going to the creek, but none of the grownups wanted me to go, even if I was with other kids. When you know the answer's already "no", what do you do?

We'd head out like we were going to town, get down the road a ways, and double back, and head straight to that cool, soothing creek. To get there, we had to go beyond the train tracks, but that wasn't a problem. We just crawled under the box cars, and kept on walking, fast.

Except for being dishonest about going to the creek, I wasn't a bad child. The only time I came close to getting into trouble was when I picked flowers from somebody's yard, to take to my teacher. Even if I had been caught, it would have been worth it. I needed my teacher to like me.

I needed something prettier than what I saw at home, and in our flowerless yard.

When I lived with grand Pa, looking at daffodils and searching beyond the clouds for Heaven, filled my need for beauty and awe. Each year I seemed to need more. Very soon, I would need more than that.