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Show little Andrew' remembered for goodness watched only the path where he pushed his little cart. His humble life was one of service. Few game as dependable, constant and dedicated service as he. And with no consideration for reward nor remuneration. Between his humble shack and town were-several were-several elderly shut-ins. These were his friends. For them he maintained a messenger service. Shopping for medicine, groceries, stamps at the Post Office, also to the shoe maker to get shoes repaired, or make exchanges etc. He asked no pay. But if there were a few cents over from one of the transactions, usually from one to ten cents, he accepted the change with gratitude. His lack of concern for people or things around him, led to his dimise. Even crossing an intersection in-tersection he had practically tunnel vision, concerned only about where his cart was going. In this oblivious state of mind a car ran over him. He died; and was burried as unpretentiously as he had lived. From his humble unselfish life of service his Eternal reward will probably amaze him. By Florence Carter In the little town where I grew up around the turn of the century, there were many old people living alone, men and women who had lost their mates somewhere in the distant past. To me they seemed as perpetual and ageless as the hills and mountains which stood as sentinals over the little town. They seemed infinate, no beginning and no end. In the perspective of time I am bewildered at how they lived. They had no income. Most of them seldom ventured beyond their own gate, or even their door. As I perceived they had no visitors. Most of them were not able to care for a little garden nor animals. The government felt no responsibility toward them. None of them ever expected help of any kind, especially not financial, and especially not from the government. govern-ment. People in those days planned to be independent in-dependent as long as they lived. They had an intrinsic pride in their simple life style and frugal surroundings. It was theirs and they were beholden to no one. Life was simple. No electricity, no plumbing, plum-bing, no transportation, no contact with the outside world, outside their own yard. Most of them owned a little coal stove, and managed to gather a little wood in summer for bare survival in winter. One little man we called "Little Andrew", lived in a little shack on the outskirts of town. His little home was not visible from the road. It was completely hidden by the bushes and weeds. Natures own landscaping. Little Andrew was almost a legend in his own time. He was as much a part of the town as the town hall, and as inconspicuous as the little irrigation stream running by the side walk. Little Andrew built a little push cart from a bushel box, two little wheels, and a stick handle. As he pushed his little cart along he noticed no one, and no one noticed him. He looked neither to the right nor the left. He |