Nobody knew about it at the time, but in the third grade I was in love with Mary Beth Canavan; certainly she never knew. And it was ironic that we both became finalists in the arithmetic contest.

I had done poorly in the first and second grades, but our third grade teacher, Mrs. Reynolds, made arithmetic exciting. She lined up the whole class at the blackboard and read off a long string of numbers to add up. The last person to finish was eliminated and went back to their seat. Anybody who made a mistake was also eliminated.

Finally, there were only the two of us left at the board. Another long addition problem and a mirror finish between the two of us. Then a second, even longer string of numbers and another mirror finish. Finally on the third set, Mary Beth made a mistake. I still liked Mary Beth but she wasn’t a very good loser.

Well, there was an old-time family grocer in Sayre by the name of J.W. Ivester, the type of person who helps make this world a nice place. He trusted and respected Daddy as a friend. He let Daddy (and quite a few others) run up grocery bills (Daddy’s was about $20 a month for year after year). Daddy bought the bare minimum, nothing extravagant, and of course eventually paid in full. J.W. Ivester saw our family through the Depression.

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