The black man turned out to be a Baptist Preacher named George W. Doleshire and though he talked kind of loud and kind of weird, he was an OK guy. I think Gary would have like him.

When Mom and John explained to him that we were on our way to our new lives in Maine and said that we needed to get going again he insisted that we have dinner with him and his family.

He said something like, “Now what sort of Christian would I be if I let pilgrims like you three wonderful travelers leave with empty bellies and such a negative impression of Ohio’s people?”

Boy, I sure am glad we went to his house because if we hadn’t, I never would have met his daughter Jacquelyn. Jacquelyn is my age and the only sister to seven older brothers.