https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hK1FaXcqUgc
The Second Day
Life continued to be marvelous. Somehow, besides an older brother, who was called Bunny, I had picked up a younger sister, who was called Button. We were playing in the front yard with a yellow ball when my mother appeared carrying a new baby. This seemed mysterious. I went inside with her, and she put the baby in my arms. I had just turned three, so it was nearly impossible to hold her, and I knew I was going to drop her. Then I would be a bad, bad person. After a few frightful moments, my mother took her from me. We called the baby "Baby." What was I called? I had an embarrassing name that was usually pronounced "Derl."
Soon after that we all moved to Atlanta, where my father had a new job with Delta Airlines. Determined to live la vida loca, we moved into a red rough wood cabin in the woods, with no running water or electricity, and only one room. It was perched on a steep hill, set on concrete blocks, and the entrance was a set of stairs going up to the side, about a story high. The inside wasn't finished, and it had a tin roof. I loved this house.
My father set about right away putting in a well, pump house, and a kitchen sink. Then he put up a wall, dividing the house into two rooms, and we had chickens in the back room. I thought this was perfect. He also built us bunk beds made of 2 x 4s with ropes tied across them. On top of the ropes he put blankets. Voila. I was OK with that. I slept on the top bunk.
So the fun began.
Nice story
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