My Sister Lynda

One of Mom's favorite stories was about me and Daddy and me.

I guess I was around three or four. He was lying on the bed and I was sitting on his stomach. He was having me say everybody's name. I'd say Daddy, Walt, Ed, etc., but when he said "Say Momma", I wouldn't say a word.

So finally it became a battle of the wills, and he'd swat me when I wouldn't say it. Finally, mom that she was, Mom couldn't stand his "being mean" to me any more and said something to him. And I said, "Momma, Daddy don't mean no harm." I was just being stubborn.

Love, Limpy

Lynda January 2000