March 22, 1956.
We lived in Williston, ND, at the time.
My paternal grandparents lived in Newell, SD, about 280 miles and about six hours due south of Williston.
On March 18, 1956, Christine, my paternal grandmother died. That was a Sunday.
Dad and I drove down for the funeral, leaving Mom home alone with three toddlers all younger than I. I was five years old at the time. So, I guess I missed a few days of kindergarten.
The funeral was held Wednesday, March 21, 1956, and Dad and I headed home the next day, Thursday.
Shortly outside of Newell, SD, in a moderately severe snowstorm (not a blizzard as far as I recall) the car -- a sedan -- slid off the two-lane highway into the ditch. Needless to say, we weren't going to get out under our own power. This was before cell phones.
We were literally in about as precarious situation as one could ever be, but we knew it was best to stick with the car and hope for someone to drive by.
It was at that moment, after a half-hour or so of waiting when we ran out of things to talk about so I thought it was as good a time as ever to tell Dad that Mom told me to keep it a secret, not tell Dad because he would but one of my younger siblings, perhaps Craig, but it could have been one of my two sisters at the time had just come down with measles at the time Dad and I were leaving Williston for the funeral.
I don't recall the specifics, but I do recollect that it appeared this was probably not the best time to have mentioned this to Dad.
Sometime later, again, I don't recall, but it must have been less than an hour when a farmer came be, rescued us, and pulled us out of the ditch with his truck or whatever he was driving.
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