On a snowy December night in 1939, a light shines through the window of an Ozark Mountains farmhouse. Doc Barnes works feverishly by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp only to deliver a baby boy, not breathing, no heartbeat, and still as stone. With nothing to lose, he takes the baby outside and rolls him in the snow. Thanks to his quick thinking, Rolland Love lives to tell his tale of growing up in the 1940s and 1950s, living off the land, having next to nothing and not realizing it, experiencing wonderful and sometimes frightening, life forming, outdoor adventures that are reminiscent of Mark Twains writings set in the Forests and on the Wild and Scenic Rivers of the rugged Missouri Ozark Mountains. An engaging story of survival, family self sufficiency, fascinating insights into the Natural Environment of the area, and just a rollicking good time. A must read a compelling an unforgettable coming of age story. http://ozarkstories.com
Genre: BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal MemoirsBooks have published have received over 1,000 five star reviews.
AMAZON KINDLE — Featured Author Review — Rolland Love “Love’s writing transfigures his Ozark Mountains stories into a series of fantastic tales Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer could have only dreamed of.”
"Rolland, you are such a rare, witty, and honest writer! You bring us with you on every page.” Deborah Shouse Special to The Kansas City Star https://dementiajourney.org
Chapter 1
Born Dead on a Winter's Day
I was born dead. In the dead of winter. Still as a stone. Blue as the smoky haze that sometimes settles on the Ozark Mountains. I know because my mother, Helen Love, my father Ray Love and Aunt Maude told me so. I can only imagine the scene: Doc Barnes, a tall rugged-looking man with bushy white hair, worked frantically when he realized there was trouble. His white shirt covered in blood and the flickering light of a kerosene lamp added ghost-like dimension to the scene. Cold enough to see your breath, the only source of heat came from a cast iron wood-burning stove in the living room. I was saved because Doc carried me outside and rolled me in snow that covered the ground from a midwinter storm. The cold caused me to take a breath and I began to cry.
I’m pretty sure starting life dead has had an effect on me. Often, I feel or see or think about something and it stalks me. It might be a word, a name, an animal, a place... This syndrome has been my companion since I was a kid.
