THAT REMINDS ME OF A STORY…

I was born 4/28/39 at St. Johns Hospital in Longview, Washington. One of my first memories is when I was three years old. We were living on 21^st on the one hundred block in Longview.

There was a large park on the other side of the street that had lots of tall grass and the snakes were everywhere. We used to get milk in the quart bottles delivered to our front door. I would take the empty bottles across the street and fill them with snakes. I don’t remember how many snakes I could fit into one of these bottles, but I could barely get the cap on.

One day while trying to get the snakes to stay in the bottle while I got the cap on, one of the snakes bit me. My folks, being from Wyoming, had told many stories about rattle snakes and how deadly they are. I knew I was going to die. My sis, who was seven and medically informed, took me to the bedroom and started first aid, which consisted of wet towels and tears shed for me while waiting for me to kick the bucket.

I could feel my life slipping away when finally mom and dad got home and assured me that I would live to conquer another day.

Courtesy of http://www.arthursclipart.org

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