One of the highlights of my young life was getting to spend time at my

grandfather's farm. Actually, it wasn't a farm. It was more than that. When I was

first conscious of my times there, just as a small child, it was to me an amazing

place. The nearest telephone was fourteen miles away. There was a creek that

ran next to the place. A foot log carried you across the creek to a sawmill that my

grandfather ran. Next to the sawmill was a sugar cane press, pulled by a mule

when it was used, to squeeze the liquid out of sugar cane so my grandfather

could make molasses.

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