I want to wish each and every one of you, my readers, a very happy New Year. This has been a new adventure for me; thank you for your comments.
Each New Year's eve I think of one of the most foolish things I ever did and thank God he watched over us that night. In the 1950s there were fire towers stationed on the highest points of the mountains north of our community. The towers were approximately 100 feet tall with a little room at the top where a forest ranger sat and scanned the area for any signs of smoke from a forest fire. A group of six of us had met at my house for a while, and as midnight approached, we came up with the idea to climb one of the towers. Of course Mama said I couldn't go, but we gave her no heed and went anyway. As we slowly climbed, step by step in the pitch blackness, my shins bumped against every wooden step until we reached the top. The next day my legs were very sore but still I didn't tell Mama what we had done. However, one of the boys told his mother and she told my mother. I got quite a scolding and a lot of "what-ifs" for disobeying. It was foolish; "what if" one of us had missed a step in the darkness, or maybe even stepped on a broken rung. A couple of years ago I called the other girl with us that night and she hadn't forgotten it either. Teens!