We made the move into Kinder in two stages. The whole family. Children were never told the why of anything, but I always thought it was for convenience. No one was bringing in any support or money, with only the measely earnings grandpa and his two sons were making by helping float the logs, and by bartering the few Axe and Hammer handles. So we moved into a run-down shack about half way into town, out by Lola and Attale Fontenot. Lola was from the Bushnell family and Attale was related to the Fontenot's.
First day we moved in, it rained, and my stomach began hurting. That was the first of what would turn out to be a bad Appendix. I lay on the bed, and the rain was leaking through the roof. I called out to Mama and she came to see about me and put buckets to catch the drips. I was not feeling well, but it was more a feeling of frustration and disappointment. Maybe I was missing my Dad.
We didn't stay in that house very long, maybe a few months. I had a craving for salt; yes, plain old table salt. While we were still in that horrible place, one day I ate salt until I threw up. Funny the things one remembers, and associates with a particular place. Maybe that's the way God helps us keep track of time and places as we grow up.
So once again we were moving. I don't remember how we moved, for we owned no automobile. This time we moved into a little better house right next to Broussard's Filling station on the south edge of town. I liked the place. We lived there for three or four years. I started my first year of school.