I grew up on a 40 acre sand and rock farm in Oklahoma. I'm 74 years old now but back when I was 12 I got a job driving a tractor during the hay harvest at 25 cents an hour now that may not sound like much now but my

allowance was 25 cents a week so it was a windfall for me.

Plus riding in a tractor all day was far less work than the chores I had to do at the farm.

I would cut, rake, and bail for 10 or 12 hours at a time. Well, that added up to $3 on most days. To me, that was a fortune.

My boss offered lunch to his workers, but he charged a quarter for a jam sandwich.

Now, jam sandwich was a piece of baloney jammed between two pieces of bread and we were lucky he didn't charge for the water.

The season was coming to an end with wet weather on the horizon and a quarter of the

field still on the ground. My boss wanted it cut and

raked and bailed and in the barn before the rain hit the next morning. So he asked me if I'd stay until the

job was finished.

I was tired to the toe nails, but it meant more money, so I said yes.

By midnight everyone else was headed home.

My boss usually picked me up each morning and dropped me off at the day's end, but he was overly tired, and I suspected that he may have tipped a few throughout the day. He asked if I could walk on that night.

It's just a couple of miles, he said. Keep the moon over your shoulder and you'll be fine.

Neither of us remembered the river and the marsh that lay between me and the house.

And besides, I was young, and it didn't seem like a big problem to me.

The moon was full and bright as I entered the woods. The storm was still in the

distance, but occasional bolts of lightning flickered on the horizon to remind me

that it was getting close.

It had been two hours and I was beginning to cuss my boss in the swamp and my life in general.

I'd kept the moon over my shoulder like my boss had said to do but I was lost.

Mostly I thought about my grandmother.

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