The Master Plan: Ten Secrets to Success: Success: You Can’T Get There Until You’Ve Been Here!

By Dr. John Louis Slack

Many people never fulfill their potential, but its not because they lack intelligence or drive. They just never develop a master plan to enjoy and achieve success.

Dr. John Louis Slack shares ten proven strategies to help you build a master plan in this inspirational autobiography. Youll learn how to

identify prerequisite strategies to building a master plan;
exhibit qualities that make others believe in your abilities;
harness social and emotional intelligence; and
respond to new situations and life transitions.

By building a plan and always focusing on it, Slack overcame every obstacle and achieved true success. Join him as he looks back at growing up in rural Pennsylvania and learning the importance of family, appreciating what you have, and hard work.

You cant achieve personal and professional success until you learn the strategies in this guidebook to living. No matter what youre trying to accomplish, your mission will be much easier with the tools and strategies youll find in The Master Plan: Ten Secrets to Success.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475948219

Dr. John Louis Slack

Dr. John Louis Slack is an educator who is currently the Director of the Public Health program at the University of the District of Columbia in Washington, DC. He has created three very successful Companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area. He has also founded a national company (ARBA) that host rare breed dog shows all across the United States which have been nationally televised. Dr. Slack is an eternal optimist who declares that “Failure is Never Final.”

Book preview

Master Plan

10

Secrets to Success

SUCCESS -You Can’t Get There –

Until - You Have Been Here!

By Dr. John Louis Slack

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Master Plan: Ten Secrets to Success

Success: You Can’t Get There until You’ve Been Here!

Copyright © 2012 by Dr. John Louis Slack

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-4819-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-4820-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-4821-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012916682

iUniverse rev. date: 11/9/2012

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Preface

Chapter I The Family

Chapter II Memories growing up in Pa.

Chapter III Early Education

Chapter IV Placed into First Institution

Chapter V Placed in Second Institution.

Chapter VI Placed into Third Institution

Chapter VII Place into the Fourth Institution.

Chapter VIII Personal Development Plan

Chapter IX The Master Plan

Chapter X Pre-Requisite Strategies

Chapter XI Social and Emotional Intelligence

Chapter XII Specific Game Plan

Chapter XIII Game Plan for High School

Chapter XIV Memories in High School

Chapter XV Undergraduate

Chapter XVI Teaching Fellowship

Chapter XVII Teaching

Chapter XVIII Lost Grand Teton Mountain, Wyoming

Chapter XIX President Ronald Reagan’s Money Clip

Chapter XX Real Estate Development

Chapter XXI The Story of Princeton Place

Chapter XXII Stabbed Seventeen Times

Chapter XXIII Consolidated Properties Investments, Inc.

Chapter XXIV The John Slack Companies, Inc

Chapter XXV Hobbies

Chapter XXVI Founding of the American Rare Breed Association (ARBA) International Company.

Chapter XXVII The Blood of Life – Golf

Chapter XXVIII Community Services

Closing Remarks

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Master Plan

10

Secrets to Success"

SUCCESS - You Can’t Get There - Until - You Have Been Here!

PAY TRIBUTE TO

Master Plan 10 Secrets to Success

Game plans are an absolute must if we are to achieve success in anything. –this book is your guide to creating extraordinary Winning Game Plans for every situation in life. Imagine relaxing for a few hours a week by reading this book, which will flood your mind with powerful life-changing strategies that can help you effortlessly experience life the way you want it to be. -James McNally, NFL Offensive Coach of three Super Football Bowls games with forty-five years of coaching and creating winning game plans for professional football teams.

‘A gold mine of insights of fantastic combination of important strategies for living that present a plan as to how to take charge of your life by becoming your own master rather than being the servant to others for the rest of your life. Wilmer L. Johnson, PhD. Author

"If you are wondering why others with fewer skills and knowledge get promoted ahead of you—this book is a must read to get you on the fast track of achieving success by learning critical strategies to achieve personal improvement." El-Khawas, PhD Author of numerous books

The text will help clarify yourself-perceptions, help you grow and help you develop better relationships, deal with conflicts constructively, and create a great support network that will help you achieve your goals. The strategies presented are the shortest paths to achieving success.

Daniel Stanley, PhD, Author

Acknowledgments

Authoring a book can feel like a solitary job during countless hours alone writing. But with the help and support of others the job becomes so much more enjoyable. This book would not be possible without the support of Robert L. Slack who was always there to provide technical support and assistance in completing this project. Another lifeline for the book was Editor, Alice Slack who provided not only editing of the text but creative and enthusiastic guidance for the book. I will always be grateful for the help of Margaret Slack, Lynn Smathers, Rudy Slack, Laverne Slack, Richard Slack and Jolanda Cornish who reviewed the text making contributions and were able to recall events about the Slack family with a set of fresh eyes and superior memories.

I would like to thank my good friend Emory Waters for creating the sub title of the book "SUCCESS - You Can’t Get There - Until - You have been here! I would also like to thank the Chief Melvin Clark for the information regarding the Nairobi Golf and Social Club." I would like to thank Margaret Slack for our wonderful children, Kathie and Debbie. Finally, I would like to thank our children for all the wonderful contributions they have made to us over the years.

Preface

Let me welcome you to a gold mine of insights into the learned behavioral strategies that helped me take charge of my life. This is an extraordinary autobiography that reveals the unrelenting journey of my attempt to discover powerful critical strategies to achieve personal improvement which I call: Master Plan -10 Secrets to Success. The title was named as such because I want you to become the master of your life rather than to continue being the servant to others. The text is a guide to success with proven strategies. Unfortunately, the strategies to achieve success are not taught by those charged with our education. Success is something everyone wants to achieve. In spite of this, far too many of us are unaware of what it takes to become successful because it is not taught to us by those that know. This volume provides the never before revealed important secret strategies that we have all been looking for to achieve personal and professional success.

Achieving success has never been easier to achieve if you have a personal improvement Master Plan. The story of the ‘Master Plan -10 Secrets of Success" gets underway in an exciting world that stands on the brink of a dreadful struggle or a joyful experience at every turn of the road. It reveals the bizarre scrimmages that occurred in my life revealing the extraordinary problems that I experienced growing up outside a traditional home. The fascinating journey begins on a little farmhouse located in the back hills of western Pennsylvania off a dusty dirt road. My parents, along with my five brothers and two sisters all lived in our wooden one-story frame house built by my Father that had three small bedrooms and a blanket for a back door. The house had an outside well for water, kerosene lights, no electricity for the radio, an outhouse, with a coal stove for cooking, and a pot belly stove for heat. The manuscript is filled with extraordinary stories that trace my life experiences as a young child who was placed into four different institutions. I was placed in two institutions in western Pennsylvania and another two institutions in Western New York. The premise of Master Plan – 10 Secrets of Success passionately puts forward the notion that the typical failure of man is not for a lack of cognitive intelligence (IQ) but is deeply rooted in our lack of crafting a personal and professional Master Plan of strategies for living to achieve success.

The book reveals my successes, disappointments, sadness, hilarious events, and huge million-dollar projects that I developed with enormous success. The volume is interlaced with the revelations of various people and experiences that I encountered over the years. The text reveals the details of the seven brutal murders that occurred on my properties that were showcased on national television. In my pursuit of success, something was happened every day, which challenged my very existence to survive. I have been physically attacked numerous times, stabbed seventeen times and almost killed. However, I was truly blessed and lived through it all with no lingering emotional aftertaste of any of those that attempted or created havoc in my life. Upon completion of graduate school, I went on to become a professor, administrator and researcher in higher education. At the same time, I became be highly involved in the real estate industry as a developer of residential and commercial property. I went on to create thriving companies by using the Master Plan – 10 Secrets to Success. I created various companies. The first company developed was the John Slack Companies, Inc., which restored or rebuilt houses or commercial properties that were severely destroyed by fire. I created another company with my brother Robert Slack known as Consolidated Properties Investments, Inc., which purchased, developed and re-sold various properties, including one of the eighth’s largest parcels of property in the nations’ capitol of Washington, DC that consisted of eight city blocks that became known as Suburban Village. We went on to create the North American Silver and Gold Exchange Company, which purchased gold and silver. We would buy gold, and silver, which we would ship to New York buyers who would melt them down to create new products. We bought the gold money clip that was given to Frank Sinatra by President Ronald and Nancy Reagan, which was aired on national television. Anita Bryant and I created the American Rare Breed Association (ARBA), which is a national registry for Pedigree dogs in the United States. We brought the dogs down from the mountains, out of the swamps, off the back porches into the living rooms of America via national televised dog shows. My brother, Robert became the company Executive Director and developed it into an extraordinary internationally recognized company known throughout the world.

In the closing chapter, I share the wonderful world of golf with the reader and explain how it became the blood of my life. Through golf, I became very involved in community services dedicated to helping young boys and girls not only to learn how to play golf but to develop their academic skills, knowledge and dispositions to attend college. I created the Jimmy Garvin Legacy Foundation Boosters Club along with some other wonderful gentleman from Langston Golf Course to help support young boys and girls registered in the Foundation to study and obtain scholarships to attend college.

The Journey Begins

Now get aboard and let me take you on an exciting journey that you will never forget because it will become a part of your life experiences that will help you build your own legacy. It is a must read because it will flood your mind with potent life-changing strategies that can help you effortlessly experience life the way you want it to be. You will find it thrilling, life changing, yet full of practical strategies that will energize and enhance your quest for the best life has to offer. Hopefully, you will clarify yourself-perception, grow and develop better relationships, deal with conflicts constructively, and create support networks that will help you achieve your goals. These strategies are the shortest path to achieving success. I wish you the very best in developing your Master Plan of personal improvement strategies to help you build your own legacy.

GET STARTED on your plan for personal and professional improvement. R.R Rahr who was a respected educator once said, Time goes by regardless of what you do. When it does, make sure you are not still waiting for the best time to begin.

Chapter I

The Family

"Other things may change us, but we start

and end with the family"

Anthony Brandt

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Sister Shirley, Brother Rudy, Sister Barbara and John

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Brothers Jimmy, Richard,

Robert, John, Rudy Jr.

Introduction

In the beginning chapters of this writing, I share with the reader my family, childhood, early education and struggle to survive. Hopefully, after reading these chapters you will have a better appreciation of the value of the Master Plan that I have developed to achieve success.

Growing up in Rural America.

Let us begin the exciting journey of personal and professional improvement by first recalling and sharing a few memories of how I grew up on the farm. The process of recalling the events brought back wonderful feelings of joy and pleasure that I experienced living with my family. Chapter one reveal a small portions of how I grew up on a farm which was a unique and special experience that few children in the future will ever have the opportunity to enjoy in the 21st Century. My mother and father were married long enough to bring into the world eight beautiful children. I had two sisters, Shirley and Barbara. I had five brothers, Rudy, Richard, Robert, Jimmy, and Kenny. I was the fourth child and the second son. My Father had two brothers and six sisters. My mother had three brothers and three sisters. It turns out that my last name was not Slack according to my family ancestry records in Austria but rather John L. Slak. You will notice that my middle initial is L named after my Grandfather Man (Louis). Grandfather Man was named Louis Frank Slak, who was born in Trebelno Parish in Bihovic Mokronog, Austria. He was the son of Mr. & Mrs. Anthony Slak. The American people mispronounced his named so often that my Grandfather grew tired of correcting everyone. He finally decided that life was difficult enough, rather than arguing continuously about the correct pronouncement of his name. He simple changed it to what everyone called him: Mr. Louis F. Slack.

My Father, better known to the family as the Old Man, built a little wooden frame house in the upper corner of our Grandfather’s farm land for the family to live in, which we all called our homestead located in Falls Creek, Pa. Unfortunately, after some sixty-five years or so the homestead had become so rotten that it had to be torn down. However, Mark Fordora, one of our cousins purchased the land that the house was built upon. Mark maintains the surrounding area of the foundation like a beautiful State Park. Mark even left the steel wire hanging on the old oak tree where my Father had tied a tire to it so the kids could use it to swing on. The way Mark keeps up the grounds and foundation really mean a lot to the Slack family. Whenever I go home to the country, I love to drive up that dusty dirt road to walk down in the field with my brothers to the homestead where we grew up as kids. The foundation is all that is left of our home. Thank you Mark, for it really means a lot to all us kids.

After our mother left our Father to move from the farm to Dubois, she had a difficult time feeding all the kids. My mother worked as a housekeeper for the Salvation Army in Dubois. I was told that Mr. and Mrs. Hines was a good friend of our mother. The Hines had no children. Our mother allowed my two youngest brothers, Jimmy and Kenny to go live with the Hines. The two little boys were packed up, and sent out the door to live with the Hines. We did not see the two kids for many, many years later. The Hines, in effect, adopted the two boys but my Father always maintained that he never signed any adoption paper. However, the two boys changed their names to Jimmy and Kenny Hines.

I married a wonderful Italian woman by the name of Margaret (Margie) Pannullo, who came from a truly old fashioned magnificent Italian family like you would see in the movies. I met Margaret at the Timon High School dances in my junior year in high school. Margaret attended Buffalo State College in Buffalo, New York. You may say that I married my high school sweet heart. Her Father worked at the Buffalo Bethlehem Steel Plant. I used to call him Pa. We used to go out almost every Friday to a little bar on the West side of Buffalo, which was the Italian section of Buffalo. We drank several draft beers, ate brown fava beans and clams. We had great times.

Margie and I had two beautiful daughters who continue to astonish us with their accomplishments in everything they do in life. We named the girls Kathie and Debbie. Each of our children went to private schools, got married and each of them had two bright healthy children. Today, we are the proud grandparents of four fantastic grandchildren who are the loves of our life. Kathie has two beautiful girls by the names of Sarah (Miss USA) and Sophia (Miss Universe). Debbie has a boy by the name of Logan, who talks and acts like a college graduate at four years old and believes that he is Mr. Genius. Debbie’s daughter Brooke is only one-year old but already has been named Miss Teenager 2020. Other things may change, but we will always end up with our same family. Love your family because they will be your only family.

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Chapter II

Memories growing up in Pa.

Even though the good old days are gone, we still have our wonderful memories! Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.

Appreciate Everything

This chapter reveal a few memories of my childhood growing up on the farm in the great state of Pennsylvania. According to Warren Buffett, the second richest man on the planet, the happiest people do not necessarily have the best things. They simply appreciate the things they have. Although the Slack family was extremely poor, we most certainly appreciated everything we had in those days. My early childhood was unusual to say the least. It was filled with joy, happiness, mayhem, traumatic events, distress, painful trials and challenges. My parents lived together long enough to bring eight wonderful children (six boys and two girls) into the world. In spite of our poor beginnings, each child grew up to become very successful in his or her own right. Growing up in a large family means you are not at any time bored or run out of people to talk to. However, you don’t get as much attention as you would grow up in a small family. I do not remember the exact cause of my parents’ separation, but I know the house was full of love and anger all at the same time. I mostly remember the good times and somehow have forgotten the bad times. What stands out most in my childhood were the wonderful holidays. In spite of how poor we were in those days. I do remember that my parents always managed somehow to find a way to provide a wonderful Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter holiday for the family. I do not know of any family into the world that had such a tough time trying to survive in life as my entire family. In reading this journey you may believe that I had a difficult time growing up and that may be true. However, when you consider how my other brothers and sisters grew up, you will begin to see that I was very fortunate in life in comparison to the other members of my family. The truth regarding the matter is that my brothers and sisters had a much more difficult time than I ever did in growing up. You will learn that I did not grow up with my family. You will also learn that I had food, clothing and a place to sleep most of the time in contrast to other members of my family that endured all kinds of abuse and constantly struggled each day for food and shelter. As the story goes on we will share the details with the reader.

Good Old Days

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Do you remember the good old days? It is amazing, how everyone seems to answer the question the same way. People say something like Yes, the best time of my life was when I was growing up as a child. Someone once said: Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory. There are lots of people who mistake their imagination for their memory. I am one of those people who may not remember the days, but I remember the moments. If you asked me the same question, I would answer in a similar fashion by saying, When I was growing up on the farm. We did not think about how poor we lived because we never knew anything else but being very, very poor. We didn’t know how other people lived in town. However, when the family was together, no family had more fun than we did. We made our fun. We did not have to buy fun like other children with fancy toys or go on vacations. We thought a holiday was the day you did not have to do chores. Life was an occasion that we celebrated every day.

Do you remember the first house you ever lived in? The earliest house I can remember living in as a child was a little wood-frame house across the railroad tracks. The house was on the out skirts of Dubois, Pa. where all the poor families lived. I use to think about the house as the Railroad House. Why do all the poor families always live on the other side of the railroad tracks? It was once explained to me that the wrong side of the tracks was the side of the tracks where the smoke, dust and soot of the train would blow on the houses as the train went up the tracks. The houses on that side of the tracks were considerably cheaper because no one wanted to live where the sooth would blow on them from the trains constantly passing by the house. I thought about this as I grew older. I really never accepted this explanation because everyone knows that the wind is subject to blow in all directions.

My Father worked as the fireman on the train of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Father would go to work and not come home for several weeks. The train that father worked on used to rumble right past the side of our house. Every two weeks or so, you could find father standing outside the big engine from the train. Could you image how excited the children would get when our mother would announce that our Father would soon be coming along in the train? Mother knew the exact the time Father’s train would pass by the house. We would all stand on the front porch, impatiently waiting for our Father who would always be dressed in the same dirty railroad uniform with his railroad hat, coveralls and gloves. We would wait and wait, but the train would seem to never appear. The children would repeatedly ask our mother: Where is the train, is it going to come?

Suddenly, from around the corner out of nowhere a huge train would appear to make all kinds of loud noises. Black smoke would be rising up in the sky from the big engine like it was on fire. Father would sound the deafening trains whistle over, and over again. All the kids would run to the porch towards the train holding their ears in an attempt to protect their ears from the piercing noise from the train whistle. Father would always throw out two brown bags from the train. He would shout and ferociously wave at everybody as the train raced by the house out of sight as fast as it came. All the kids would chase alongside the train. We would become exhausted from shouting at Father as we raced down along side of the tracks trying to keep up with the train. After the train disappeared, mother would focus on the two brown bags. Standing on the porch, she would scream at the top of her lungs, Get the bags, and get the bags. All the kids would scramble to chase down the bags. Mother would carefully open one at a time until she found the bag with the candy. She would gingerly pass out the candy usually giving us only one piece of candy, saving the rest for another day.

We attended a Catholic school by the name of St Catherine, which was just up to the hill about a mile from the railroad house. We would walk up the hill through a long scary graveyard that never seemed to end to get to school. My oldest brother Red, would often run ahead, hide behind a tombstone, and jump out screaming to scare the living Jesse out of us. For lunch, we used to walk just about another mile to our Grandmother’s house, (our mother’s mother) which was just down the hill from school. We could always depend on the same-old lunch to be served all five days during the school week that consisted of boiled wieners, baked beans, and some kind of homemade cake. I can remember a bowl of candy that could be found on a little table that stood at the front door of the house. Grandmother would give us one piece of candy as we would pass by her to go back to school out of the front door. However, before you could get a piece of candy, you had to give her a big hug and kiss saying thank you for lunch. Once we got home, we had to change from our school clothes into our play clothes. We would carefully place our school clothes on a hanger and put them into the closet to be ready to wear the next day for school. Of course, we would wear the same clothes all week long.

Farm House

My Father moved from Dubois, Pennsylvania to a little town by the name of Falls Creek, Pennsylvania. There were about a hundred families who lived in the small town. The tiny town was charming, rich with mostly robust people that were first-generation folks from all over Europe. They were respectful, kind, and filled with good old-fashioned qualities. The people were all more than willing to help each other to survive. The community would offer a hand to each other to do whatever task that had to be done. In those days, people all worked together, men, women and children to do whatever it took. When a family purchased some land, the people would come from miles to help. The people would clear the land to make fields for crops to be planted by removing trees, and stumps. The neighbors would help raise barns, butcher the hogs, plow the fields, and make hay.

The farm children use to run around half dressed with no shoes working alongside the adults. It was uncommon for us to wear shoes. Rarely did the children even wear shirts in the heat of the summers. Though Father was not a carpenter, he and the neighbors managed to build a little one story three-bedroom house. The house was about three miles from the town up off a winding dirt road back in the mountains. We moved to the house. The house was absolutely beautiful to us even though it had no plumbing, electricity, air-conditioning or heating system but rather an outhouse that had a half moon cut out in the top of the wooden door to let the stink out. The Sears catalog was used for our toilet paper.

Carry Water: Snakes or Snow

The older boys were responsible for keeping two buckets of water in the kitchen at all times. Water was drawn and carried from the spring in galvanized buckets. The spring was about seventy five yards down the hill from the house between two apple trees. One would think carrying the water from the spring would be a simple chore. Regularly, in the summer when you went to dip the bucket into the well, you would find a big old black snake or two swimming around in the water. If the black snakes were not in the water, you could find them sunny their selves on the rocks around the well. Usually, black snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them. However, if you surprised the snake, he would certainly bite you. On the other hand, in the winter, there was another problem that the children were confronted with when carrying water to the house. There was an argument in the winter time as to who was supposed to go down the hill to get the water. Of course, it was always freezing cold with ice and snow on the pathway. The truth of the matter is that one could not find the path most of the time because it was covered up with snow. Beneath the snow was ice. The winter on the mountains was unbearably cold in those days with tons of snow and howling winds almost every day. If you think, the trip down to the well was tough, just think about how hard it was to climb back up the hill given the slippery ice upon the ground, deep snow and strong blowing winds. The wind would blow the snow everywhere. The snow would come down the size of half dollars creating zero visibility. More often than not, you would slip and fall spilling the water. Invariably, some freezing water would get on you, and you would not only be covered up with snow but soaking wet with the bitter cold water. You had to fight to get up and return to the well to get another bucket of water. All the kids up at the house would be standing in the door laughing their heads off. The good news is that when you finally made it back to the house someone would meet you to take the bucket of water. I would climb up the stairs as fast as I could to run through the house to take my pants off to get warm by the potbelly stove. All the other children would continue to laugh at me as they made little comments. However, I would come back by saying: Don’t worry; tomorrow, it will be your turn.

Bathing the Children

One of the most challenging dilemmas that our mother had to face was to bathe eight dirty little children. Mother only gave the children a bath once a week. My brothers and sisters by no means were ever given bubble baths. The process required the older boys to go to the well and carry as many buckets of water as required to fill the big galvanized wash tub twice. The water was poured into a large kettle, which was placed on the cooking stove to be heated. Mother would pour the water into a big galvanized wash tub. Mother then would wash four of the children before changing the water with fresh water to bathe the remaining four children. The challenge was to be first to get a bath after the water was changed.

Coal for the Fire

As often as necessary, Father would gather up all the older children to take us with him down to the railroad tracks along side of a mountain to get coal for the fires. The very long coal train would move at a snail’s pace as it struggled to travel up the steep winding mountain. Our Father would valiantly climb on onto the coal car as it was traveling up the steep mountain. He would then forcefully throw off large lumps of coal. The children would run onto the tracks to gather up the coal to be placed into gunny sacks to be taken home for cooking fuel or to be used to heat our house.

Going to School

The fondest memory I have of growing up in the rural county was the difficult journey of walking to and from school in the winter. It seemed that the temperature was always below zero and snowing. Regularly, as you walked along fighting the dreadful winds, the snow would fall down so hard that it was impossible to see. Although several other families lived up the same-old dirt road along with the Slack family, the State never plowed or removed the snow from the roads during the winter. At times, the snow would accumulate as much as two or three feet deep. Yes, I said two to three of snow. As I have said, it definitely snowed much more in those days. God forbid if you fell into one of the deep ditches that were on either side along the road. You would be completely covered with snow from head to toe. You would try to walk but constantly fall down in the snow. Usually, the falling of snow would continue all the way home. It was so, so nice to get home to take off your clothes to get warm next to the good old pot belly stove that was always burning red hot. When you got home, you looked like a statuette or some kind of monster right out of the movies. You would be covered head to toe with snow that would freeze your clothes. The clothes would become stiff as a board. When you would take the frozen clothes off, you could literally stand them up by themselves, and they would not fall down. All of our brothers and sisters would huddle around the burning red hot belly stove in their underwear, shivering, rubbing their hands and feet trying to get warm.

Little Carnival at Home

From time to time, I affectionately think back upon the good old days when the kids used to swing on a tire that our Father had hung from a large limb of a huge old oak tree that stood so stately behind the house. All the kids used to hang around the oak tree waiting until their turn to swing on the tire. It was our carnival in the woods just like the ones that the city kids had, but ours was free. The next person waiting in line would push the person on the tire. Each child got to swing ten times before they had to get off and let the next person swing. We used to all count out loud to ten. I always enjoyed hearing my little baby brothers trying to learn how to count. Needless to say, the baby brothers learned how to count very quickly as they enjoyed being pushed on the swing and counting out loud with their older brothers and sisters. Whenever my brothers and I travel back to visit the homestead, we always take a moment to talk about the wonderful times we all had swinging on the old tire. The steel wire still hangs from the tree to this day.

Fresh Baked Goods

All the kids would seem to run home each day from school just get a smell or eat whatever our mother was baking. Mother would bake bread, cookies, pies, cakes or something every day. The kids would anxiously huddle around the cooking stove pushing and shoving each other trying to get closer to the goods. We not only had to wait for mother to remove whatever she was baking but had to wait until it cooled off once she removed it from the stove before we could eat. You could hear the children always saying, Is the cake cooled off yet? Is it ready to be cut yet? After a short period of time, which seemed to be forever, mother would give in and cut the cake.

Swimming Nude

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Probably, the happiest memory I have of the old days was when our Father