My grandfather grew up near Chatham, Ohio, in the days before every family owned a car. Once a week or so, the family would hitch up a buggy and ride to town for food and supplies. One particular trip to town was in the middle of winter, so the ground was covered with snow. The whole family piled into the sleigh.

As usual, they followed the river for about a mile and crossed at the bridge. The river was frozen over, so on the way home they took the short route over the ice. This was a serious mistake. As they crossed the water, the ice caved in. My great-grandmother was thrown from the sleigh. She was holding baby Orville who fell from her arms into the fast-running water.