In the spring of 1941 my brother, J. W., and I, purchased, sight unseen, a bunch of saw logs. The deal was that they had been hauled to a clearing and dumped in piles.

My father had a small saw mill that we had arranged to borrow to cut the logs into lumber. In July we loaded the saw mill on the truck and drove to the site.

Great disappointment hit when we saw the so called saw logs. It was a lot of poles, the largest being about eight inches diameter.

My father had gone with us to help set up the mill. He walked from pile to pile, then came to J. W. and I. J. W. was almost crying and said, �Dad, what are we going to do?�

Dad�s answer was a lesson in life. �Sons,� he said. �It�s a sorry cat that can�t cover it�s own stool. Now, you boys made this mess and I suggest you clean it up as best you can.�

J. W. and I worked like beavers for two weeks to saw what we could from those poles. Most made a 2� X 4� with bark on the edges.

Well, we didn�t make very much money from the sale of that very poor lumber, but the greatest reward was when dad told us, �You boys are good cats!�