Hiding In Haystacks


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Chapter 1

My Daddy was no criminal. That is to say, the criminality of his offense did not make him a criminal. Daddy always did what he had to do to provide for his family. He often said so. It was the year of The Great Depression. It hadn't quite taken it's iron hold on the country quite yet though and the Westerly winds of the Dust Bowl were just beginning to blow their dusty winds of destruction across the midwest. 


Things were pretty sedate here on the Hiding Homestead. That's what the folks around these parts here called this 'hole in can' property, where our family had lived since time immemorial. Howard Hiding is my name. One year, roundabout in 5th grade, our closest neighbor who lived 15 miles away, and my best friend Billy Jakes started calling me D.H. Which stood for double h. Howard Hiding, get it? I called him Snakes. His Daddy and my Daddy were in the Great War together and they often took to drink of a Saturday. Daddy always said "Sundays are for God but Saturday is for drinking. That's so's you can ask forgiveness boy."



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