Widad’s Memoirs: Chapter 2

I was born March 29, 1929, which makes me 83 years old.  So I have some patience with myself in remembering family history.  My grandfather on my father’s side was a deaf mute.  He was not born that way.  His father hit him hard on the neck when he was twelve years old; a really hard hit. He was hospitalized for a month, and when he came out he couldn't speak or hear. We felt very bad for him. He and his wife had six children; three girls and three boys, all very healthy. Makes you wonder. Another story: my grandmother used to save everything. The town was tarring the road to fill in some holes.  My grandmother filled a can with some of the tar and put it in their chicken coop with a rag on top of the can.  One chicken tipped over the can and got stuck in it.  We tried hard to clean the poor chicken since we knew it was suffering. We even tried gasoline but that didn’t work, so we had to kill the chicken.   They had her for dinner. I went to bed without dinner and cried all night.