When I was about five years old my mother was taking Marge and me to church.

We were living on Tripp Avenue, where Rosemarie was born. My mother told us that all we had to do was stand when people stand, kneel when people kneel, sit when they sit, and keep quiet while the service was going on. And that’s what we did.

But when we came out of the church it had rained all during mass and all the streets were flooded. There were wooden planks all along on the way home, laid across the street so you could get across the puddles. We passed a blacksmith shop, and we went in to get out of the rain, and we watched this man shoeing a horse. Anyway, it was quite a memorable day.