I wish there was a picture of this; but sadly, there are no pictures of my dad when he was a little boy — the youngest picture I’ve seen is high school.

Grandma had a wood stove — and that’s what the house smelled like. Wonderful!

Dad helped wash dishes. Dishwater was heated in a metal dishpan and the dishes were done right there on top of the stove — no running water, no sewer system — water got tossed out the back door when they were done.

An old farmer, Mr. Niemala, regularly stopped by (there seemed to always be someone at Grandma and Grandpa’s, or someone stopped by). Dad would be doing the dishes on top of the stove, and Grandma would serve Mr. Niemala a cup of coffee (no mugs in those days—coffee came in cups perched on saucers).

Just like my grandpa did, Mr. Niemala poured the coffee from the cup into his saucer, put a sugar cube between his front teeth, and then sucked the coffee from the saucer through the sugar cube.

Coffee was good, but the real reason Mr. Niemala came by, Dad remembers, was to sit in her cozy kitchen and argue religion with Grandma!

"Come. Sit down. Let's argue this out." This is God's Message: "If your sins are blood-red, they'll be snow-white. If they're red like crimson, they'll be like wool.” Isaiah 1:18