"Daddy, what did you do when you were young?" Many children ask this question. My daughter would say back, "Daddy, you're kidding me " I did much thinking and decided, before I became too old to think, to write an account of my "growing up". I wanted my father to do the same, but his story was never written. In one town, there was an elder, Clayton Mack, who had a stroke. While under care, he told his nurses' many stories. These ramblings were written and placed in order. Two books were then published. I suppose Clayton was the reason I attempted the same. Therefore, here I am, writing away. As my thoughts are put to prose, another purpose of doing this comes forward. Composing, the process of story writing makes one think much more of what makes a person who he is.