Picked my first apple in Wenatchee in ’46. Be pickin’ now if my feet were better. Froze ‘em last year in Galesburg, an’ they’s stiff as boards, don’t bend like they use’ to. The way my feet is, I don’t think they’d make it up the ladders no more. Figgered ever’thing’d be healed up by now, but it don’t look like they’s gonna git any better. My hands an’ feet never stop tinglin’, jus’ the same as if they was asleep. I shake ‘em an’ slap ‘em ‘gainst each other, but they won’t stop tinglin’. They’s scarred up bad, frostbite scars, but that don’t bother me none. It’s the damn tinglin’ drives me crazy. Been through plenty a winters an’ come out OK, but this last one, I dunno, this last one got the best a me.

I was holed up in those bad order cars. Out west a the main yard they got a yard fulla nothin’ but bad order stuff, an’ I was stayin’ in one a them cars. It was cold but nothin’ too bad. Had my winter bag with me, an’ I was inside the car, outta the wind. Then a blizzard come up, unexpected like, an’ started blowin’ something awful. All night long the wind was howlin’ an’ blowin’ snow up against the car. Figgered I could jus’ wait it out an’ I’d be alright. Planned on gettin’ inta some place warm soon’s it let up, but it kept blowin’ for three days. The only food I had was a can a beans an’ a can a dog food, an’ I ate ‘em both the first day.

I curled up into a ball inside my sleepin’ bag ta try an’ conserve heat, an’ the only time I got up was ta take a leak. I laid there for three days, listenin’ ta the wind blow ‘roun’ the car, an’ I was gittin’ weak, an’ my hands an ‘feet were numbin’ up. I figgered I couldn’t take much more. It was either git out in the blizzard, or die in my sleepin’ bag. There was nothin’ to do but git up an’ try an‘ make it outta there. I climbed outta the car, an’ startin’ wadin’ through the snow. Left my sleepin’ bag an’ ever’thing in the car. Walked ‘cross this big field, an’ the first place I come to was a sheet metal shop, an’ the guy there let me inside to git warmed up. I was standin’ ‘roun’ in there, tryin’ to git my blood movin’ again, an’ he said I looked half froze. He took me in his pickup truck to the mission in town, an’ the mission people took me to the hospital. Spent some time in there. Fixed me up pretty good, ‘cept for this tinglin’. I’d be pickin’ apples this season if my feet were better. This is the first season I missed since ’46.

93.