My father had 8 brothers and five sisters growing up. By the
time my brother and I had come along, the war (WWII) was over, they had all
grown up, and most moved away from our town. So any visit to our relatives usually
involved a drive of about three hours or so.
One of our favorite uncles lived in Ohio near Canton. I
remember we would go there regularly. It took about three hours. It seemed that
we went at least a couple of times a year. My brother and I enjoyed it because
we had three cousins we could play with; one boy and two girls. The boy was the
oldest and the same age as my brother.
One summer we spent a week with them. Pop and Mom came up to
visit and dropped us off. I don’t remember how we got back, but I suspect our
uncle brought us back so he could visit his mother, our grandmother, who lived
in a town near us.
While we were there that week, two major things happened
that I remember. One was going to church. We had gone to church regularly
growing up, but at the time, I was going into eighth grade, and it seems we had
stopped for some reason. Anyhow, we went to our uncle’s Baptist church – we
were Presbyterian – twice.
And the second time
we went we were baptized. Now we had already been baptized Presbyterian, but
that didn’t matter to us. The minister scared us into thinking we had to be
baptized as Baptists to be saved. So we did!
The other thing that happened was we learned to ride
bicycles. It was great fun. Our cousin already knew how so he taught us. When
we got home we naturally asked for bikes for Christmas. And we got them – two
bright red ones!
I think of those trips to Ohio and learning to ride bikes and getting baptized whenever I look at the carvings my uncle made me.
I was an
adult when he gave me these, but it doesn’t matter. When I look at them, I am
still fourteen and it’s a hot summer day in August in Ohio.
(Georgia 13)
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