I remember my Uncle C.W. Atha and his family living next to us when I was about six years old. He farmed the land directly across from Dad's farm. C.W. was a little bit of a dare-devil and I remember riding in their car (an old 1939 Lincoln with a v-12 engine). I liked going fast and I'd lean over the seat watching that big ole speedometer in the center of the dash and offer encouragement to go faster.

I remember C. W. would break horses during late fall and winter and one time he was busted up pretty bad. Money was pretty tight and people wouldn't hire anyone to break a horse unless the horse was nearly an outlaw. C was a good hand at breaking them and they usually turned out okay.

I remember one morning C came over just as we were sitting down for breakfast. I think he had already had his breakfast, but sat at the table with us drinking coffee. Mamma had fixed a big ole pan of scratch biscuits and sat a plate for C anyway. I happened to notice him reach for the horse radish jar and it sure made me curious about what he was up to. He was in a conversation with Dad and thought he had nabbed the peanut butter. Now, when he poured syrup on that stuff he really had my attention. Wish I'd had a camera because the look on his face when he tasted that conglomeration just can't be explained.

©Doran McEntire
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