In the summer of 1938 we went to visit some of our kin who lived several miles away. This meant that several days were used up in the process, and was planned before time with other kin so it would turn out like a reunion.

We visited my Dad's aunt's house, my Aunt Annie and Uncle George French. I could not begin to find their place now, but I remember it was near the town of Ione, Arkansas.

Uncle George was a deaf-mute. I think he always was from birth. At any rate, he had very few problems communicating with us boys. He had not gone to school to learn sign language, so had made up his own. We could understand him, and he could understand us.

Aunt Annie had a mole on her face, up a little and to the right of her mouth. Uncle George spoke of her by putting his finger on his face in that spot and moving the tip a bit. It was not difficult to know who he was talking about.

Uncle George told me to go to the barn (about 300 feet away) and he would bring me his 22 rifle to shoot. So I went, and so did a bunch of my cousins. Uncle George came to the barn with the rifle held in front of him so it could not be seen from the house, and handed it to me. Then he told us to go down to the creek to shoot so Aunt Annie could not hear it.

Of course Aunt Annie did hear it, and looked at the empty rifle rack and knew what was going on. My cousins and I returned to the barn, and Uncle George came out to get his rifle. He was sneaking it into the house held behind his back, and Aunt Annie was watching. When he was in the process of putting it on the rack, Aunt Annie stomped her foot on the floor. He was caught.

Uncle George turned to her and put his finger on his face, then made his lips into a kiss. Aunt Annie made a sign as if she was spitting, then started waving her hands. We knew she was giving him hell for letting us boys play with the rifle. We felt bad that we got Uncle George in the dog-house, but it was the most impressive fuss that I have ever witnessed.