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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In my Heavenly Father's house, there are many mansions, and I look forward to spending an eternity there with him. But my earthly father's house was rather small and simple. For any that might be interested and for my children and their children, there is a little town and once upon a time, my father had a little house. My father's house was located in a little unincorporated town; latitude 34.09 and longitude 90.51, just off a main US highway. You can locate the town, but I heard that my father's house is gone. I heard it because it has been many years since I visited that little town. Perhaps someday I will revisit this little town and stand upon the ground where once stood my father's house; where once we laughed and loved; where once we played and slept to the sound of crickets and awaken by the crowing of roosters; where we all felt the warmth of family in my father's house. It's very likely that no one else will ever tell you about my father's house; so I'll take the liberty to share a little of what I remember about father's house. My father's house was a concrete block structure of four rooms, which was later expanded to 6 rooms for his rapidly growing family. The front portion was enclosed with a screened front porch with a built-in bench on two sides. My father's house was equipped with electricity, but although we kept warm in the winter with butane, coal and wood heaters, it never had central cooling and heating, nor indoor bathrooms and plumbing. Mama cooked the tastiest meals and the most luscious cakes and pies on her beat-up gas stove. In my father's house, there was mother and our maternal grandmother. My mother and grandmother were inseparable; so father kept them together. At least 9 of my siblings and myself were born in my father's house. Our oldest sister was born in another house, and our baby sister was born in a county hospital. In my father's house, there were my 8 sisters, 3 brothers, myself, and my dog Jack. Jack was given to me by my father when I was just a little lad. Jack died of a gun shoot wound inflicted by a farmer who didn't like that Jack was trespassing on his land. That was his story, but I think it was us that he didn't like. However, that's another story for another time. Anyway, we gave Jack a noble burial under a Chinaberry tree close to my father's house. My father's house was full, and he also filled the outside of his house. My father had a large garden of vegetables and a couple of peach trees. My father had no shortest of chickens, pet rabbits, pigs, a goat, and a cow. Except for the pet rabbits, these animals supplied us with plenty of fresh food. My best recall is that over the years I have resided in four states, in 12 different residences, but none engenders the memories nor compares to my father's house. 031221PS
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