Flint, Michigan is about in the middle of the lower peninsula of Michigan. I have no idea why we moved to Flint from Drexel Hill or if we lived someplace else after Drexel Hill and before Flint. But since a family goes where the man works, we ended up in Flint in 1939. I can vaguely remember the house and area we lived in. The house had a porch on the front and left side as you faced it. The porch had trellis running up the posts that supported the overhanging roof. These trellis, in the spring, had honeysuckle vines growing up them. I can clearly remember Jim and I picking the flowers when then bloomed and sucking the nectar out of them.

I remember the bedroom we, Jim and I but I am not sure if Tom was in the same bedroom, slept in. At that time Jim and I slept in a double decker bed. Naturally since I was the youngest and smallest, I got the top bunk. This was not the choice bed as you had to climb up a small ladder to get into bed. And, worst of all, since I was young at the time, I had to sleep with a railing on the side on the bed where I climbed up. The railing was there to prevent a child from falling out of bed at night. This, unlike today, was probably the first instant of child-proofing the home. The beds were constructed so that they could be stacked as a double bed or two twin beds, which later came into use when we once again moved.

I recall one night waking up with a start to find myself lying on the floor and my brother, Jim, asking me if I was aright. You see, I have apparently turned over in my sleep in the top bunk and the safety railing either was not properly in place or I had simple rolled over it. Anyway, it was truly a shock to find yourself five feet below where you started the night. But both Jim and I agreed that I was "saved" since I had happened to land on the small braided rug that my Mom keep next to the bunk beds. After all, this rug had to be at least 1/2 inch thick and the weave was heavy and tight.

I believe that Tom may have slept in the same room as Jim and I as I very clearly remember being sick with an ear ache, being put to bed in another bed to wait for the doctor to come and examine me. Yes, in those days the doctor came to your home and you didn't have to go to a doctor's office and sit in the waiting room for over an hour to see him. You remember that my grandfather, Bampa, was a doctor in Sandusky, Ohio. His practice was large and he attended to his patients by horse and buggy. He did end up with a fine home just across from Sandusky's court house and right next to the jail. No wonder his kids behaved - the jail was next door!

Anyway, back to my ear ache, which I recall or was told that I did have several of these. The doctor would come to our house and I would be in bed. With a small device, much like a tea strainer, that he placed over my mouth and nose, he would drop ether on the device and I would be anesthetized, i.e. put to sleep. Then he could safely drain the infection in my ear. So far as I know at that time there was no medicine to cure an ear ache. Now days there are drops for the ear, antibiotics and other drugs that fight the infection and a "radical" solution like lancing the ear drum is not necessary. I have often wondered if that is way my hearing is so poor in my old age. But it could have been my time in the Army after college. But that is another story for later on.

Perhaps the most traumatic event in my life occurred in Flint. I failed 2nd grade! Oh, I really didn't fail 2nd grade because I was not smart enough. I failed because of the amount of time that I was out of school sick, mostly with ear aches. The teachers thought I would be better off if I were held back a year so I would learn the important things that a 2nd grader needed to know.

This is a vast difference from what has happened in the past few years with "social promotion". You know what this is. It is the idea that a child should not be held back a year in school because they can't understand the lessons. Then he/she would not be with his peers and thus suffer great trauma and lost of self-esteem. The thinking of today is it is better for the child to go through school with his/her peers rather than learn. What a waste of a child's life. It is common today to hear stories of high school graduates that can't read their own diploma.

This being help back was a key to what I have achieved in life. I learned early on that there is no short cut, you must learn everything step-by-step. And most of life's steps are hard to climb. I guess you would say that in life there are no elevators - you have to climb. Right now I help people on the internet with making, or rather correcting mistakes on their web pages. Almost everyone I help is under twenty years old and quite a few are under 14. They all are amazed that the person helping them is almost 70 years old, something they can't fathom, an old man who knows web page building and HTML (Hyper Text Mark up Language). The one common thread with over 90% of the people I help is that they don't want to take the time to learn how to make a web page. They want it to be easy and when it is not, they throw up their hands and say, "It is just too hard!".

I don't remember if my brothers made fun of my for failing 2nd grade. They certainly made fun of my later on but for failing, I don't think so. Perhaps it was because of my parents, especially my Mom. After all I was the youngest and needed her protection. And my Mom could make us mind very well.

The most dreaded thing my Mom could say to us kids when we were caught being bad was, "Go out in the yard and cut yourself a switch!". A switch is a small branch of a bush, probably no more than 1/8" thick and from 8'-16' long. The switch, when applied with a stroke to the back of your legs, is a fine device to instill fear, respect and the understanding that your are not to do "that thing again". I think I can still remember the sting it imparted to the my legs. Once or twice was enough. Mom loved us and the switch was just a way to punish us for the things we did wrong. She didn't have the strength in her arms to really spank us kids, especially when we were at least half her size. There was no malice in the "switching". I can't remember ever being struck by either of my parents for no reason unknown to me. I was spanked when I was bad.

You might ask why in the world would any kids go out in the yard, with a knife, and cut a switch so his Mom could switch his bare legs for being bad? Easy choice - it was either that or Mom would tell my Dad and, frankly, there was nothing worse that having my Dad find out we did something bad during his time away from home working. So switching was the much better choice. Besides, as we were kids and made many mistakes growing up we learned that an early "crying" could stem the impending strokes severity. My Mom really hated to discipline us kids. She was a wonder woman, a soft heart, kind and gentle. I have no idea how she could be married to my Dad, who was the strict, smart, and really not a father that was close to his kids. Perhaps this is why I am sort of distant from my own son, Chris. But that too is another story for later.

So, I failed 2nd grade. The humiliation lasted a short time as we moved once more to a new city and no one there knew that the new kid in school was really a "failure". Now days I use my failure as an example that you can overcome certain failures in your life. I use this with kids, both my own and others, who claimed they can't do things in their life as they had failed at something. I can tell you that failure is a great learning experience - it has to be or you will just fail again. Here I am, a person who failed 2nd grade but later in life obtained a Master's of Science degree in Mathematics from Ohio State University and became a member of Mensa, a society whose member are in the top 1% of people in the world as measured by standardized intelligence tests. But this too is another story for later on.