Dad was born in a log cabin

When we were kids, occasionally an adult around us would tell family stories. Dad was inclined to stretch the truth a bit, and, especially as he repeated the story over the years, the story would change somewhat. By the time we were teenagers, we had the idea that Dad's stories might have some kernel of truth but also might be stretching the truth a bit. When asked why we immigrated from England, he suggested that our ancestors were either horse or fish thieves, and we had to get out of that country quickly. We still do not know which item was stolen, but I hope to learn soon.

We decided to take a family car trip to Missouri to visit relatives and to see the place where Dad was born. After several days on the road we arrived at cousin Dortha's house in Lebanon, Missouri, and unpacked (Dortha was a sister of Zelner, who lived across the road from us). The next day we went to a small bump in the road named Conway and then nearby to Bear Thicket (there really is a place with this name), an even smaller bump where Dad was born. A schoolhouse and church was all that remained in Bear Thicket. Several miles further was the farm where Dad had been born.

Maurice and I were on the edge of our seats to be the first to see the farm, because Dad had always told us that he was born in a log cabin. Imagine our delight when we pulled into the abandoned farm to see a two-story frame house. So much for Dad's story. He had added that in the winter the snow drifted into the room even up onto the blankets, the flies froze and were swept out the door in the morning. Now it does not snow much in Missouri either, and Dad was less than two years old when they moved away to resettle in New York. So how did he know all these things? Why did our family 'Go East, young man, go East' instead of 'Go West........?' That's another story.

Well, Dad did not have much to say, and that was the end of THAT STORY. Well, maybe not. Some years later I again visited Lebanon and went to visit the farm where Dad had been born to discover this visit that it was now inhabited. The lady of the house invited us in, and we found a frame house that was kept clean, but not much of the house was plumb, and walls and windows seemed to have a life of their own. After all, the house was very old. She asked if we knew that the front corner of the house was originally a log cabin, and then she showed us the window sills and size of the walls, etc. So Dad was partly right, and, as usual, partly stretched the truth a bit to make it interesting. He was born in a log cabin which was also a two story house at the time. I delighted in telling him that indeed he had been born in a log cabin. Now about stealing horses, or was it fish....