As another birthday approaches, I am reminded of one that happened a good many years ago, sixty-some in fact.

One day, my wife asked me if I would kill and dress a couple of hens. Although I knew my birthday was getting near, the thought of a birthday party never entered my mind for we had been having some pretty severe winter weather. I didn't know of any company that was expected on the coming weekend which usually was the only reason to have a chicken dinner. My wife, Ag, wasn't taking pupils to school that winter so we had let my brother Bob use our old 1928 Ford. He had had an altercation with a fireplug with his car and it refused to stay in high gear. Ag had asked Bob if he would bring my parents and my youngest sister and kid brother to the party that I didn't now about. Back then, the road men didn't bother much with back roads and as they sometimes saved miles of travel we would leave the road and take to higher ground and less snow in the fields. Bob knew that I used the Day Hollow Road and Gary Hunt Road which came back on to Lisle Road just below our place. But he didn't know there was a drifting spot at the foot of a hill that hadn't been used for some time. The tires on that car were quite bald for we used them as long as they would hold air back then. All at once Bob realized that he was still in the road but there were no tracks. As the snow got deeper, he realized what had happened but he could still feel the old frozen ruts under that snow, so he began rocking the car back and forth, getting traction from the sides of the ruts and finally came to the top of the hill. If Dad hadn't been in the car with him, I'd had some trouble believing this story.

Ever since we were kids, Bob had always been someone that I depended on for all kinds of help. He was always resourceful and seemed to have a solution for any problem. The party was going along nicely, although I was still bewildered for it had come as a complete surprise to me. Someone had just made another pot of coffee and, not realizing the water conditions in this house, had used all of the hot water. They didn't know you had to have hot water to prime the pitcher pump which sat on a boxlike stand in the back yard and would freeze up as soon as you finished pumping. As soon as they said we needed water, Bob said to me, "Come on." He knew the only thing holding the pump on that stand was the weight of the pipe in the well. Bob took hold of the pump and began hoisting it up in the air. He said to me, "Catch it when I let it down." There was only 11 feet of pipe on that pump so when he got it half way up he leaned it over and I caught it. As soon as we had it free of the box, he said, "Take it right in the kitchen and we'll stick it in the oven." We soon had a warm pump, we took it back out and put it back in the well. There was a little cold water left. We primed the pump and soon had everything filled with water again. Once more, Bob had saved the day.