There had been a lot of sawn and split firewood piled in the yard of our home in Rylie. It was beside the chicken yard part way toward the well. It was a huge pile, not stacked in an orderly fashion. I believe it was about ten feet high give or take a bit and the base had quite a circumference. After walking around it and checking it out, I decided to see if I could build a tunnel into the pile with the entrance out of sight of the house. It worked just fine and, after it was completed, I crawled backwards into the tunnel. After I had backed far enough inside, I used a few pieces of the wood to block the entrance, thereby creating a hideaway.

Somewhere I had seen how miners, as they dug into a mine, used timber for a crosspiece and uprights to hold the crosspiece in place against the roof of the tunnel so that it wouldn't collapse. I had done the same with pieces of wood as I had built my tunnel with great care and an eye to my being safe inside my hideway which was at least six to seven feet into the woodpile. At the end of the tunnel, I had cleared a wider space as a very little room with additional uprights and crosspieces. It was almost as if I could have extended my tunnel to have a second entry.

As I was sitting there, in my hideaway, thinking how closed in it must feel for miners, I heard my mother calling me. Here I was, proud of my accomplishment but afraid of how scared Mom would be if she knew where I was. I had not expected her to need me or, maybe, time had passed more quickly than I thought and I had intended to leave my hideaway before she found out about it. She called again and again. I also heard her brother, Uncle Dorsey, calling. My mother began getting panicky after calling a couple times. I could tell that they were moving around the yard and they sounded worried that something had happened to me. I couldn't take it very long and, with great reluctance, I called out loudly saying something like, "I'm O.K. Mommy."

She said something to Dorsey about where was my voice coming from and called to me, "Where are you?"

I had to answer, "I'm in the woodpile."

Mom screamed, "Oh My God! He's trapped under the wood." She was getting frantic. Dorsey was trying to calm her. They were asking how I got trapped and were talking about getting the wood off me as quickly as possible before I was crushed, but not wanting to move any for fear of making my situation worse.

As I started crawling toward the entrance, I called out, "I'm O.K. I'm coming out." When I started pushing away the pieces of wood that concealed the entrance, Mom screamed that the pile was starting to cave in and I called out that it was just me. After I was out, she gave me a big hug and then gave me a good scolding. Uncle Dorsey got down on his hands and knees to look into the tunnel. When he saw my work, he told Mom that I had really made a good tunnel, then told me that it was a dangerous thing for a little boy to have done.

Then there was the time that some heavy equipment was left overnight in our yard. I was outside after supper before sunset and decided to investigate. It was either a road grader or a dozer that I climbed upon and sat in the driver's seat. I started pushing and pulling levers when I noticed the ignition key. At the time, I didn't know that was what it was. It turned very easily and the engine started. This time, I was a little doubtful of my possibility of continued life as I sat there frozen to the seat.

Dad and Mom both came running out of the house, screaming that I shouldn't touch anything. Dad climbed up with me, turned off the engine speaking rather stern words about how I could have fallen off and been run over by the machine. Mom also scolded me and I got a blistering for my effort. When the men came back to get the equipment, I heard him bawling them out for leaving the key in the ignition switch. They said they did that in case the machinery had to be moved before they got back.

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