When I was nine years old, Pop decided we should move. He bought a farm about 30 miles from our first home. All our new neighbors were farmers.

Mom was not too thrilled moving from a nice home to, as she put it, a "dump." It was a 100-year-old, two-story, four-bedroom house, and it was not in the best shape. The kitchen floor was wood plank and was slightly tilted. One of the four bedrooms upstairs was made into a bathroom. The cellar had a dirt floor, a coal furnace and a cistern, which is a rectangular water storage facility built out of concrete blocks and plastered on the inside. Gutters along the roof collected rainwater and, by downspouts, the water emptied into the cistern. That water was used for taking a bath! One time a rat fell into the cistern and until we drained and scrubbed it clean, we took baths in that stinking water. No wonder mom was not too thrilled about living in that house.

One of my best high school friends--of the few friends I did have--had a similar problem. A rat fell into the cistern in their cellar. But there was a tragedy: His dad waded into the partially drained water to start cleaning the cistern. He had an extension cord with a light on it that he hung from the ceiling. The light fell into the water and he was electrocuted!