When my brother was a growing up, Daddy had him out working all summer and every Saturday, bush hogging, piling brush, whatever he could think of that Bill could do to relieve his own work load. The fact was, Daddy had bought a farm and bitten off more than he could chew. He laid out a day’s work for Bill every day he wasn’t in school.

Don’t worry. Daddy didn’t neglect me. As often as not, Daddy set me to work right along with Bill. The Louisiana heat was and is miserable. Daddy kept Mother stretched to the max going for tractor parts, transporting power saws to and from the shop, picking up feed from the feed store. That left me to get meals on the table, and do “women’s work” while she was on the road. That meant, the house had better be clean and the TV off.

I digress, the point of the story it. Bill had to be working every day. Poor boy. He’d sweat so much even the insoles of his shoes were soaked through. He only had one pair of work shoes, so they never dried. During this period, the younger girls acquired a cute little lap dog. They made him a tiny bed in which he stored his little puppy treasures. Late one afternoon, Bill was recuperating from his labors and stripped off his socks, dropping them on too of his sweaty shoes. The little dog streaked over and snitched a sock for his treasure trove. Apparently it was too rank for him. In half a minute, he was back, returning the offending sock.