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Post by Betsy Warren on Jan 2, 2009 17:35:44 GMT -6
My Uncle Harold was mild-mannered and gentle, always smiling, whistling or singing. He loved to tell jokes and loved to laugh. As a farmer, he always had a "farmer's tan", white forehead from where his feed cap would sit while the rest of his face was always brown. He never seemed to be without some kind of feed cap. I loved to go out to the farm to visit Aunt Pat and Uncle Harold. My parents love to tease me about when once, as a child, I accidentally said Uncle Pat and Aunt Harold. Getting to the farm was an adventure in itself....my dad would drive as fast he dared on the gravel road as we went up and down over the hills....I called them the "wheeee hills." Forever etched into my memory is the sound of their screen door slamming, Aunt Pat calling to the farm cats to come get their scraps of supper, and the warm homey smell inside the kitchen and dining room. Not to mention the mammoth steps going upstairs! I've never seen, then or since, such massively steep steps. It's a wonder none of us kids ever broke our neck playing on them. Having never known either of my grandfathers, who both died before I was born, I always identified my Uncle Harold in that role for myself. I still miss him terribly, and wish that my husband had had a chance to know him.
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