When I was at Chilocco my detail was to be an aide to Mrs. Hayworth,  who was the journalism teacher.  At the time the print shop worked with her to constantly journal all activities at the school. Those who attended remember our Chiloccoan Journal newspaper that came out weekly.  At the time the boys at the print shop were trained to operate the linotype machines.  When I asked Mrs. Hayworth why we didn't use so many commas she told me,

"Every time there is a comma the linotype machine has to change into a different mode."  To make a long story short, I didn't learn  to use the correct usage of commas or some other parts of English grammer,  and spelling I just don't have.  At this age I'm having to go  back and study.  With this slipping memory it is harde,  while I have o read over and over,  and then,  sometimes forget. The ending of the story is that my ghost writer who graduated from Chilocco,  but then, went on to get her masters in English is having  to patiently work with me.  This is when the subject of bulldozer came up.  I was using bull dozer, and she reminded me it was not bull dozer.  I misunderstood, of course, because in my background a lady doesn't use the word "bull."  It had nothing to do with that at all.  In reality a bull - dozer  is a sleeping bull, but the machine  it is one word, "bulldozer."

Talk about slow, I must be worse than a turtle, more like a snail as I slide along ruining the King's English (not Oklahoma's). However, my spirits aren't dampened as I am determined to record the meat of my stories which is, to me, very much like this paragraph sent to me by Gayle Templeton. Something about these stories give me such a special feeling for ancestors that had the courage to go ahead, never feeling sorry for themselves. Gayle gave me permission to use it here:

Gayla wrote:

Well, Donna, my dad operated a bulldozer for 70 years and never called it anything else. I think folks that read you would be ok with that word. LOL  Yes, actually he did work on one that long. He dropped out of school in the third grade when his dad had a heart attack He and my grandmother worked with the horse drawn implements and he worked part time until he was 80. He died shortly after building a pond for a neighbor. I have pics of my grandma riding a horse drawn plow wearing overalls and a sun bonnet. She had a baby 4 months old and my aunt Etta left school, being a 5th grader so she could keep house, care for my sick grandpa and carry my uncle to the fields to be nursed every 3-4 hours. I've heard Grandma say that she could hear that baby crying for his dinner as my little auntie carried him over the furrows. They were able to save the farm, only to lose it during the dust bowl days. My dad was a whiz at reading engineering stakes and helped build nearly every federal reservoir and highway in Kansas. He could do math in his head faster than we children could with a paper and pencil. I  guess he is an example of making lemonade when life gives you lemons and you are absolutely right in calling his tractors bulldozers. LOL  Blessings Gayla