This Is Part of My Story

On a snowy Sunday night in the City of Syracuse, NY, as I sit at my computer and write part of my story from the past. The weather is very cold outside and I am snuggled up in a comfortable position in my chair. As I look out the window on this cold night, I think about when I was a little boy in a small country village call Lamont, Fla., located about 29 miles south of the capital. I think about my grandma who raised me there. Some people said that the town was so small that the state, wrote on the same sign, 'enter and leaving'. We had no electricity, only table lamps. In the wintertime, it was very cold. We had to cut wood for the fireplace in order to keep warm. We place the newspaper in the cracks of the house in order to keep the wind from blowing through. One time doing the winter, it snowed and the front porch was full of snow and my grandma saw us playing very rough together and doing many difficult things. She knew that we played with water lots of the time and when she came outside and saw the snow, she said in a very loud voice; “Why are you boys spreading all that washing powder out there on the porch!?” We said; “Grandma, that’s not washing powder, that’s snow! She said; “Don’t you boys lie to me, that’s washing powder!” Then she came out and felt it for her self and said; “Oh boy, this is the first time I ever saw any snow; that’s cold, ain't it?” We said; “Yep grandma, it's snow." So she said; “come out of that cold before you catch a cold.” We said to ourselves; “How do you catch a cold?" That’s part of my story and I’m sticking to it.