My dad’s cousin ran away to Louisville and disappeared. She had a name but was called Babyface because the metal work in her mouth made her cheeks puffy. Everyone assumed that she had gotten into drugs and probably become a prostitute. But, years later, her body was discovered on the grounds of Waverly Hills Sanatorium during landscaping. She was identified by her dental work.
Mr. Tingle was a jeweler in Louisville, but lived with his mother on Knob School House Road. She was confined to a wheel chair. He was not married.
My father was a boy scout leader. He and other troop leaders, whose names I don’t recall although his brother Dale may have been among them, took the boys out one night into the forest. Picture a group of 8-10 year old boys walking among the trees with their little flash lights in their little blue uniforms with yellow neckerchiefs. Twigs cracking, leaves crunching, small rodents rustling. An owl hooting, a coyote howling.
Myrtle was an aunt, married to…Henry? They lived at the end of Muriel Town Road. Myrtle would “get out” sometimes and show up knocking on Ira and Lennie’s front door (my dad’s parents). See, Myrtle was off. And this was a time when you kept it in the family.
Ira, my dad’s dad, made his own beer. One day, he and a friend realized they only had one jug of beer left.
The family was living in the gas station at the crossroads in Sonora, where 31W crosses 84. Ira managed the station for years, and the family lived in the back. The beer still was in a closet, and jugs (picture those cream and brown colored jugs) lined the shelves around it.