Mother and Dad had a very rare relationship: one that you really don’t see too often, a love affair that continued clear to the day he died. I never heard (and you hear this all the time–“I never heard a harsh word between them”) but I really never did. And I never really remember them raising their voices at us except Mother’s voice rose a few notes when she was chasing Edward around the hall and through the living room with a yardstick after he had flooded the basement, set fire to the field, or poured Sweet Pea perfume in her bread dough–the last time she ever made bread.
She was brave and courageous. I didn’t know this but Carolyn told me she saved her life when she was four or five years old. She and Edward were out in this little hut that they had built out of a big wooden crate; it had curtains and even candles in the windows. Carolyn started to scream when the curtains caught on fire, and then the crate caught fire too. Mother ran out and with her bare hands broke apart that burning crate and grabbed Carolyn and pulled her out, burning her arms. Of course, Edward was on his way and Carolyn always attributed her “not too glorious eyelashes” to this event.
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This story was submitted to FamilySearch Photos and Stories by Sharon Rich Lewis