wrote:

And I grew up in a neighborhood where everybody burned coal.

My grandparents house had a coal furnace at one time. The driveway was made up
of clinkers from the ashes. I remember trying to walk across that barefoot. No fun!

As I recall, Papa said they had an automatic stoker, but it wasn't foolproof. He
still spent some time down there with a shovel.

George Patterson
Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you quarrel with your neighbor.
It makes you shoot at your landlord. And it makes you miss him.