Once when I was 6 years old on a trip in North Carolina we passed within 3 miles of Dad's mother's house, in the Art Cloth Mill village. I remember the words he said to mama, I should go by mama's house, but we need to get back to the church. He pastored 90 miles away (before interstates). So he drove on.When he arrived back at the parsonage the phone was ringing. It was one of his brothers, Frank, mama is dying, she wants you here.(Of course that was 1945, only Dick Tracy had a cell phone.)We immediately left to retrace our steps. Dad was the oldest of 13 kids. Grandma died an hour after we got back, but she never regained conscientiousness. Daddy mentioned that very often how he was too concerned about getting home thinking there would be plenty time to visit his mama. I took that seriously I tried to always take time to see mama, after he passed away. Some facts but mostly just my
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