My Grandpa Frank Paris Hunter

Frank Paris Hunter (1879-1950). Standing on the steps of his last home, Manget Street, Marieta, Ga)

On this cold frosty morning I thought of backing up to a fireplace. Wait! I have a little adventure that comes with this thought. When I just turned seven we moved in my grandfather Frank Paris Hunter. His wife, my grandmother had just did. He and I became good friends. He kept his moonshine hidden in the coals underneath the house. Instead of fire wood we had a pit under the front porch that kept our coal supply and grandpa's whiskey and wine. The booze was our secret. In the mornings Grandpa got up before anybody else and felt it was his job to butter the loaf bread slices and later Mama would slide the bread in the oven. On cold mornings before anybody got up Grandpa started the fireplace with his coals. Besides the stove that wss the only heat source in the house. I was usually the second one up. The first thing I would do is back up to the fireplace to warm my legs. The last morning I did that a hot red cinder popped out of the fireplace and my pajamas instantly burst into flames. It caught me by surprise and I panicked and screamed. Instantly my grandpa, in his 70s threw me down and somehow beat the flames out. I don't remember going to the hospital, which would have been the Old Hospital on Cherokee Street. As a general rule my parents believed more in home remedies over ER's. But I do remember my legs being covered with blisters for weeks. Very painful. But here I am about 70 years later typing about it. The photo is my grandfather Frank Paris Hunter on the steps of his house, about 3 years he saved my life.