We were about the luckiest kids in the world. We always had as much or more than the average kids in our neighborhood. And of course, we had each other. But most of all, we had parents who had the knack of teaching us how to get pleasure from working and how to make our own fun, using a minimum of worldly goods while doing it. For instance, we played a game called "Driving the Old Sow." The equipment for playing the game cost absolutely nothing. It consisted of one beat-up tin can and a mesquite stick for each player. We spent many happy hours playing the game, especially when we had a bunch of other kids to play it with us. Many of our playthings were not bought with a lot of money, but were the result of our parents' ingenuity and willingness to build things for us, as well as playing with us and teaching us how to live more abundantly. We were the only ones who had a merry-go-round all our own. It was a big one--a four-seater, big enough for grown people. And we had to hold on tightly or be slung off. There was a special seat for the smaller ones so they wouldn't get slung off. And of course it was propelled by boy power. At Christmas we got our share of toys and things, and we got candy and fruits too. We had apples during the entire year, and we got bananas a few times. But we never saw oranges except at Christmas time. On Christmas Eve nights, before we went to bed, we placed chairs around the living room with a name in each one. Gifts from Santa were never wrapped. He put my things in the chair with my name in it, and the others likewise. Next morning no one was allowed to go into the living room until all were ready to go in. We were taught that our family should work together to make a more abundant life for all in the family, and now I was beginning to see families working and playing together to bring a better life to all in the community. The Stevens family lived about a mile from us and one day one of the boys got married. The whole neighborhood knew that the newlyweds were spending the night there at his parents' home. I was only about nine years old, and I can't remember much about that one and only chivaree I ever attended. In fact, I don't think there was much to remember about it. But when they explained to me just how a chivaree was carried on, naturally I wanted in on the action. Any country kid could beat a bucket with a stick. And it seemed that all the little kids and big kids and grow people were there with buckets and pans and sticks. We waited until all the lights were out in the Stevens' house. Then we silently surrounded the house and when the signal was given we all marched around the house drumming up all the noise we could make.