But for now, Daddy arrived home to find his mother almost ready to give birth to her twins. As November 17th, 1933 dawned, it became obvious that the babies would be born that day. My grandfather went to work in his fields and left my father alone in the house with his younger sister, Prudence, and his mother. As the day progressed, his mother's labor pains became more intense. My Aunt Penny later told me "the last thing I ever heard my mother say was to your father; she told him not to tease me anymore...to be nice to me."

My father heard my grandmother in the next room, laboring hard to deliver her precious twins. They were large babies, both weighing over 7 pounds, and my grandmother was a small woman. She gave birth finally to the girl, Tenny Eula, and labored further for the birth of the boy.

The boy, Tonny Eulis, was finally born...but both he and my grandmother died. My father was in the next room and listened to everything, every moan, every sound, every cry, every scream, during that entire day. As stated earlier, my grandfather did not believe in doctors, or modern medicine of the time, so no help had been summoned.

My maternal great-grandmother arrived and she took young Prudence, kicking and screaming for her mother, from the home. My father sat there...13 years old, in a cast from hip to ankle, seated on a wooden platform constructed with wheels for mobility...and cried for his mother.

The young baby, Eula, only a few hours old, was taken to a neighboring farm. A couple there, named Anderson, would give her a loving home. My grandfather, it was repeated to me, "had no use for a baby girl; she was one more mouth to feed and when older could not work on the farm."

Young Prudence, only 6 years old at the time, continued to cry for her mother but would remain at her grandmother's home to be raised.