A lot of her memories that day went all the way back to when she was a young girl living on the family farm in Arkansas. All the family, aunts, uncles and cousins had little houses on the one big family farm. There was a creek named Sugar Loaf and each kid had a rope swing that swung out over it. They rode their horses into town to buy material and supplies and to go to church. I tried to get her to talk about the Great Depression or how she and my grandpa came out west during the war in their old jalopy with their little baby in tow, warming her milk bottles on the radiator. However, her mind wanted to stay back on the farm of her childhood. She was happy there.