Mr. Carroll Emerson was our long time mail carrier. I'm reminded

of the time my brother Wayne and I were riding one of our

horses, "Shorty", to the north of our house out toward 320. We

were riding bare back one behind the other. I was 8-9 years old

at the time. Daddy used to take the horses from place to place by

holding the reins outside the car window and driving slowly and

leading them. Well, Mr. Emerson came by as we were riding.

Shorty took off after his car...I guess thinking she was being led

somewhere. She came up the road toward the house running

full out. Then she came to a screeching halt in front of the lot gate.

Both Wayne and I bit the dust. He just bounced; I broke my left

arm. Mr. Emerson had seen the event unfold. He stopped and

helped get us in the house and calmed down. He then proceeded

to help Mama splint my drooping arm and get started for Williston

to visit (young) Dr. Dailey.

Ah, yes, thems were the days.