It must have been in the early 1960's when I first met James.

He was a thin and somewhat shy little boy with a shy, faint and occassional smile. He was not much of a conversationalist, but then who is between the ages of three or four. (It has been such a long time ago so my dates may be somewhat off.)

At any rate, I met Jame when he came to stay a while with his grandparents. Mr. H. and Miss Annie Biggers just loved children, even ones who were not theirs. (I should know, I was at their Johnson Street home often enough; either for our weekly Bible studies or just  to spend the night and hang out the next day with Van.)

Mr.H had a habit of often taking us kids down the hill to a store, I think it was named Holmes. Anyway, he would buy us a cup of ice cream and made sure we got our paper-covered wooden spoons with which to eat our ice cream.

Well one day I guess it was too many kids hanging around  to take us all for ice cream, so evidently he sneaked James away for a cold treat; and he and James may have gotten away with it, if James had wiped his face.

A bunch of us kids stopped playing long enough to see "Daddy H." and James coming back up the hill toward the house. "Daddy H." had a half sheepish look on his face because he had slipped off to treat just one child. And James evidently had forgotten to pick up his wooden spoon and had to lick and drink his ice cream from the cup.  That was evident by the ring of cream on his top lip.  Boy, did we ever have a good laugh at James' expense and we didn't feel cheated because James was the cutest and youngest of the bunch.

Footnote: That was some fifty years ago. Last year, I called Laura, James's mother, and she wasn't home. However, James answered the phone and we must have talked an hour and a half.  Of course James did not remember me, but we enjoyed our conversation because I remembered James.

There is no safer place for a deceased loved one to be than in the memory of Jehovah God and in the ressurection power of his son, Jesus Christ.