I'm one of the few people who didn't call her Aunt Bessie.You see—the person everyone called Aunt Bessie—Well, I called her Mom.The Winter of 1938...inters in the Midwest are always bitter cold. That winter we were eking out a hard-bitten existence. Fortunately, all summer long we had cut and stacked firewood down one side of our old house, so we stayed warm and cozy.In addition, my mother, like every other year, had spent the summer canning hundreds of Mason jars filled with beans, tomatoes,. The cold rain soaked me to the skin before I took two steps. "Gotta problem, Gloria?" I said."Coach! Am I glad to see you! I've got a flat tire, must have picked up a nail, or something." Do you have a spare?" I said."Yes, but..." I'll change the tire, Gloria. Open the trunk, and then jump in my pickup to keep Larry Foreman company. It would be silly for you to stand out in this gusher to watch me change the tire." Okay, and thanks, Coach. I owe you," she said as she unlocked the trunk."Yep," I. More

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