I remember the story well. Dad would take the picture, set me on his knee and relive their camping trip. "Your Mother and me and your Uncle Earl and Aunt Dovie had gone fishing on Red River. The year was 1940, and the best I can remember it was October. We threw our pallets on the sandbar. Your mother and Dovie built sandcastles while Earl and I caught fish for supper. After supper we searched the skies for the Little Dipper and watched the moon rise."
I made my debut nine months later, the morning of July 11, 1941. Red River shaped my destiny: Not the alignment of the stars; not the signs of the Zodiac.
