Mr. Carroll Emerson was our long time mail carrier. I'm reminded
of the time my brother Wayne and I were riding one of our
horses, "Shorty", to the north of our house out toward 320. We
were riding bare back one behind the other. I was 8-9 years old
at the time. Daddy used to take the horses from place to place by
holding the reins outside the car window and driving slowly and
leading them. Well, Mr. Emerson came by as we were riding.
Shorty took off after his car...I guess thinking she was being led
somewhere. She came up the road toward the house running
full out. Then she came to a screeching halt in front of the lot gate.
Both Wayne and I bit the dust. He just bounced; I broke my left
arm. Mr. Emerson had seen the event unfold. He stopped and
helped get us in the house and calmed down. He then proceeded
to help Mama splint my drooping arm and get started for Williston
to visit (young) Dr. Dailey.
Ah, yes, thems were the days.