My earliest memories are of Dad and Mom on our Cotton Farm in Texas—How they basically had to sell due to debts from rains not coming and crops not growing—I remember them and us two boys, although very young, having to work hard in the cotton fields. And I remember i remember coming to California, living John Steinbeck’s “Grapes of Wrath_ The car was the home of us two boys, the tarp covered trailer is where dad and Mom slept I remember the entire family picking fruit and moving from crop to crop. I, sadly and angerly, remember how we were treated. I remember living in a tent until Dad could find a little bit of land to build a home for us,——But there was never a lack of love–such love as folks don’t seem to know these days!—–And
suddenly I am old enough-17 to join the Air Force —and the rest is history. I did very well in my chosen careers.——And now I have so very much—A loving wife—loving children and a ton of grandchildren and great grandchildren. And NEVER without something, anything I want to eat! Oh My Gosh I am rich beyond measure!—And I want to give back. I want to see the sparkle in someone’s eyes as I given them a token of love. I want to let a child, seemingly without hope, know I see the him or her, and know there is hope-someone cares—-and I tell you, the reader, about it, hoping you will do the same. There is such joy in giving!—And I am grateful to my God!