While we had been working on the farm six days a week and resting on Sunday, there were millions in this country living in cities and working on Sunday. Then we moved to town and Sunday became a way of life for us also--but not all at once. At first our working on Sunday came gradually and very reluctantly. But many town-people had no stumps to dig up, no cotton to pick, no fields to plow, no weeds to hoe, nothing to make them tired enough during the week that they needed to rest on Sunday. So, instead of sitting and resting, they played golf on Sunday. Now, Earl became a good golf caddie. But he couldn't just caddie on week days and rest on Sundays. Golfers liked him and wanted him to caddie for them on Sundays also. Well, the love of money may be the root of all evil, but in Earl's case it was not so much the love of it as it was the necessity of it. Earl liked to eat, so he caddied on Sundays. At the same time, Papa got involved in trucking and there were times when his services were needed on Sundays as well as during the week. He just simply couldn't get it all done during the week. It became a real emergency when one of his customers had to have his goods hauled on Sunday so that he could begin his work on Monday morning. We all know that it is perfectly all right to help the scriptural ox out of the ditch on Sunday. And when a trucker helps the ox out on Sunday, and receives good pay for doing it, he soon gets in the habit of wanting to help the ox out every Sunday. It even comes to the point where a man might push the ox into the ditch on Saturday in order to get to help him out on Sunday, for pay of course. If I wanted to try to justify our working on Sundays, I might mention that it was hard to make ends meet even at that. We lived three years in Hamlin before we gave up the old kerosene lamps and moved up to electric lights. Even then it took some planning. The meter deposit was three dollars and we spent five dollars for a bunch of used insulated wire and light fixtures. It wasn't easy to get eight dollars ahead in just three short years, but we did it. We still didn't have screens on our windows, nor did we have an icebox. I took some scrap lumber and built an icebox just large enough to hold a dime's worth of ice, a pound of butter, and a quart of milk. The ice would last two days. Most of the milk stayed in the milk cooler on the back porch, with damp clothes spread over the containers. It would have cost too much to refrigerate all the milk.