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In the early days of my youth, my family lived a nomadic life style--taking possession of unattended shelter wherever we could find it. We lived in tents, crumbling log cabins, abandoned houses, a barn, a school bus, and even a chicken coop. This is the tale of my life during those years as my mother and father slowly (but somewhat reluctantly) lifted themselves out of the post-Depression era into contemporary society. I was 16 before we had a home of our own that had indoor plumbing, electricity, and a telephone. My brothers and I never minded the way we lived and, in fact, were quite happy with our way of life. I don’t pretend to recall every detail of my early life, but the rich and colorful dialects of my family and friends who lived in the rural Oregon Coast Range still echo through my mind. If I have taken literary liberties in relating a few, otherwise mundane, incidents to spin a yarn, it was only to entertain, not to alter the facts of history. The anecdotes are real, even if the telling is a bit embellished at times.
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