The year was 1935; the depression had a tight grip on our family. Mama was wondering if the 3 sweet potatoes would be sufficient for supper. It would have to be enough because that was all she had. Daddy suggested walking behind our field, in hopes of killing a squirrel or two. Mama discouraged him, saying, "You know we've not seen a squirrel or any other game in months. Besides, it's getting late and starting to drizzle rain." Daddy insisted on going anyway and suggested she not bake the potatoes right away.

The drizzle became a steady rain and it grew dark earlier than usual. Mama began to fret and pace the floor. Finally she baked the 3 potatoes and we ate 2 of them. The 3rd one was saved for Daddy.

After going to bed, we heard Mama muttering to herself; "I tried to talk him out of going,; the old fool! He's like a blind dog in a meat house. He'd get lost in his own back yard."

Bullets were scarce; they cost money. She finally took her shotgun and went on the porch, where she fired a shot in the air. She listened, and at length, heard him answer with a shot. Her heart sank for it was far away. She waited a while and then, fired once more. When she heard his answering shot, it was still far away, but in another direction. She knew, at least, he was still alive. She went to bed but not to sleep. At intervals, she went on the porch and would call to him. She remembered his blowing horn finally and taking it on the porch, she blew it long and loud. I finally fell asleep, thinking how cold and wet my daddy must be.

The sun rose the next morning; the rain had quit during the night. It wasn't long before we saw Daddy walking around the field, coming home. He walked like an old man. I thought he must have walked all night and was awfully tired. Mama gave him a hot cup of coffee, helped him out of his wet clothes, and into bed. He promised us the story of his night in the woods when he awoke from his nap. Daddy began his story by saying the reason he got lost was the rain. At one point before dark, Daddy realized he was becoming "turned around." He found himself arguing which was north, south, east or west. About that time he spotted another set of tracks in the wet ground. He knew it must be a neighbor hunting so he figured on overtaking the person and wouldn't have to admit he was lost. About the third time of passing a huge beech tree, bearing our names where Mama had carved them, he realized the tracks were his own. By this time he knew he was definitely lost. Darkness was settling over the woods so he sat down by the beech tree to wait for the rain to stop and the stars to come out. If the clouds broke , then he could use the stars to guide him home. He waited, and the rain continued. At last, he heard the report of a shotgun and realized it was his wife, trying to guide him home. He answered with a shot from his gun and began a fast trot in that direction. After some time, he heard another gun shot; only this time, it was from a completely different direction. He wondered if she had started walking, trying to find him. He fired again and turned in another direction and began walking. Time passed and then he heard the long, lonesome sound of his blowing horn. This was still from another direction. What in the world was that woman trying to do; utterly confuse him?! After walking for what seemed to be hours, he sat on the ground, leaned back against a huge tree and managed to "cat nap." The sun woke him up, beaming in his eyes.

"Oh my Lord," he exclaimed to himself. Right in front of him was his field fence. He glanced to his left and sure enough, if there wasn't his house!