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Having grown up in a four-room wood-frame house that was heated by coal-burning fireplaces in the two bedrooms, I’m a bit ashamed of myself. I started shivering and shaking from the moment icy, cold temperatures and ice on the ground were forecast

I entertained the idea of putting on my flannel pajamas, wrapping myself in a wool blanket and snuggling up with a good book.

But, memories stood clear of playing paper dolls warmed by a fire in the coal fireplace.  Mama would be listening to the “hillbilly” radio station, Daddy would be snoring and Bubba would be fast asleep.

No matter how cold the winter nights would be, even down on the floor, I was toasty, warm.  We, Mama and me, had long since chinked the windows by poking strips of newspaper into the cracks around the window so tight that the wind would blow right back on itself if it tried to come through.

It was my chore to the coal pile and bring in two heavy buckets of coal. I didn’t like doing that. I got smut on my hands and my face and I had to wash it off in a hurry or it would get in my eyes and put them out, my Granny said.

On one really cold winter day, Daddy came home with exciting, good news. He had bought a spanking new kerosene heater. And, he had talked the man out of the wood frame that would support the 50-gallon oil drum that he set up right by the back door.

Daddy said we wouldn’t have to go outside anymore to get coal to keep us warm. All, we would have to do was open the kitchen door, hold the kerosene tank up to the old drum faucet and turn it on.

The kerosene would come out in a hurry and fill the jugs in just a minute or two. We had to be very careful with a kerosene heater. If kerosene got spilled on the floor, the fire would jump out of the fireplace, catch the house on fire and burn us all to a crisp. That’s what Mama said.

Well, we stayed warm all that winter and those that followed. We moved to a different house that had wall furnaces. No icicles hung from eves of the new house and there was no crackling and popping of wood or sparks flying. I longed for our old house.

Even today, I think of those days and how things used to be. Then, I put on my flannel pajamas, turn the heater down  and dream about the good ol’ days.