When my dad was six months old, my grandmother placed him too close to the fire. Life as a sharecropper in the 1920’s provided little more than the necessities. So, when the blankets caught fire and severely burned my father’s feet, they lacked the necessary resources to adequately address the crisis. With feet permanently disfigured my father sat out in life. My grandparents were of good stock and I’m sure they handled the situation as best they knew how. In fact, had I been in their s…